Lurie's Overture
by imumblealot
Summary: Dr.Lurie was one of those characters who "got away". He disappeared off the CSI map, even though he works at a hospital that CSIs frequent. Now the question is, where did he go, and what happens when he comes back. Updated every other Monday.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If I owned CSI, I wouldn't be putting my stories here! Therefore, if I am doing this, it must mean I don't own CSI! 

A/N: Spoilers up to end of Season 7 for now, but will continue onto newest episodes aired in US. Set in the summer right after Dead Doll (season 8 episode 1). And much thanks to my beta, GSFanatic for encourage, advice and more! :)

* * *

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeepppppppppppppppppppppppppppp

He stared at the monitor in disbelief. This was not happening. She was too young and too beautiful to go like this, with her beauty buried underneath the layers of mud, scratches and bruises.

"Damn it!" He growled between gritted teeth. Doing a quick survey of his team, he knew that they had given up-he could see it in their empty looks back at him. But he wasn't going to let her go without a real fight, not him. He wasn't willing to lose her after all that.

"MOVE" He bellowed as he roughly pushed one of the new interns aside to grab the defibrillator pads off its stand.

"You know that won't do any- "One of his colleagues started as he placed the pads in position.

"I have seniority here Steve, and we do as I say" There was a deadly chill in his voice that made the other man back off. "Clear!"

He stared at the monitor with wide eyes, as if he was trying to will it to give him the results he wanted. The high pitch beep just continued. He gripped the paddles harder as he glanced at the machine to make sure it was ready. Without a word, he tried again, and again, until the situation sunk in.

He ripped his mask off with shaking hands, not noticing the streaks of blood he had accidentally transferred with his action. "I'm going to talk to the family."

"I don't think that's a good idea"

He stared at his colleague who was now blocking his path. "Fine" He ground out after a few tense minutes. He was too emotionally exhausted to really protest.

When he left the room, he avoided the direction of the waiting room but they still spotted him.

"Doctor, tell me Anne is alright. Please" A man's voice begged.

_I gave up. I lost her._ He wrenched his arm away from the distraught man. "A doctor will be with you shortly" was all he could muster as continued walking away with his head down.

* * *

In his ten years of service, he has been in this room several times. The first time was when they promoted him from a lowly intern. The next few times were also for various promotions up to the senior position he held currently.

But this time it felt different. Curtis was sitting stiffly in his swivel chair, too stiffly for comfort. The constant page flipping in a file he was reviewing was also a dead give away. For the first time in his career, he got a good look of Curtis' office. Wall space that wasn't taken by shelves or windows was plastered with pictures of various family members, patients, and nature photography. Normally, people should feel welcomed in here but he just felt uncomfortable.

His musings were cut short by the older man clearing his throat. He looked at him as he pushed up his round rimmed spectacles which made him look a little like Atticus, well, Atticus Finch at age 60s perhaps.

"Vincent," He thumbed through the pages nervously, "You know I think very highly of you-always have." Taking a glance at him, his boss continued "You also know about the in review system that we have at Desert Palm, I'm sure."

Vincent nodded.

"Good, good…" the older man looked took a deep breath and glanced at the various pictures in the room before appearing to zone in on one. "I still remember the first day you interned." He let out a small laugh. "I couldn't believe my own eyes, I mean…an intern with hands so steady." Curtis shifted his focus to him. "I remember telling you on that day that most kids who come through the door could barely carve roast. It's like they needed scalpels with training wheels. But you, you made it look like it was connect the dots." He smiled nostalgically before something made that smile slip. Clearing his throat nervously he looked at Vincent over his glasses. "I'm worried about you. We're worried about you. You see this file?" Curtis held showed him the file before handing it to him. Vincent took it and felt his stomach drop when he flipped open the cover.

"It's understandable that you get a few of these… I mean, we've all dealt with the bitchy patients or interns who think too highly of themselves." Curtis continued, "But we've began noticing that you seem to be more than a little…distracted in the past year or so. I mean, you can put it off as bad nights of sleep if it was just a few incidents but what's going on Vincent?"

He knew in his head that his boss was referring to his recent scatterbrain tendencies, missing appointments, forgetting to relay messages to patients, not showing up to staff meetings; along with the mood swings he's been having according to the office gossip mill, but this was just something he didn't want to talk about-to anyone. "I'm just a little…tired." He tried to look nonchalant. "It's really nothing, I swear – I mean I've improved on showing up to briefings and meetings now."

The older man looked at him skeptically over his glasses. "What about the incident a few days ago, with the camping victim?"

Vincent shifted uncomfortably in the seat. "I lost perspective." His jaw clenched as he thought back to that day, and her. "I-I wanted so desperately to bring her back..."

"To the point that you would push aside ten years of medical experience and try the TV myth of jump starting her heart with the defibrillator?"

He guiltily looked down at the incident report. _"Dr. Lurie was not scheduled to be on Emergency Room duty but upon seeing the victim, insisted he be on the team…He refused to listen to the advice of fellow team members and insisted on using the defibrillator in a situation which did not warrant the use of the machine…… Dr. Lurie abused his senior position in order to have this procedure done, even though the medical team -under his order- had tried the defibrillator with various chemical steroids in an attempt to revive the patient already." _Curtis cleared his throat, but Lurie didn't know what to say to him.

"Look, Vincent," His voice was soft, "You're a great doctor, and I don't want to see you burn out."

Lurie's head snapped up at those words. "That is not what is happening."

"Then what are you doing?" He waited for a response, but once again received none. Curtis sighed. "I am going to suggest that you take a sabbatical. Caribbean's, Canada, Costa Rica, just …get away from here."

"What? Why?" Lurie said panicked, "I have patients lined up and waiting for various surgeries, I can't just drop them. A-and I just took over Steve's job of assigning interns, I can't just drop all this. " He was shocked at that his boss could fathom the thought of him leaving Desert Palm-even if only for a year. Curtis didn't reply, but just watched him. Lurie took a deep breath, "What happens if I don't take that advice?"

"Then I am afraid I will be forced to put you on administrative leave, after a psychological evaluation."

Lurie stared at the pile of complaint forms in the file. Most of them were from the last three years. One stuck out, it was filed on January 17th, 2004 for failing to show up to surgery where the patient had been waiting for a year. Needless to say, she was pretty pissed. But that wasn't the reason behind why he remembered. A nauseous feeling washed over him, making him take quicker breaths that he hoped Curtis didn't notice. He remembered how he couldn't fathom holding anything sharp, never mind a scalpel in his hand in the few days after that incident.

"Well?"

"Where should I go?"

* * *

TBC

A/N #2: I love love love the character of Vincent Lurie. I'd love it if they brought him back for the CSI movie but what are the chance of that, right?


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not mine. I wish I had the brains to create the multi-million dollar franchise that CSI is...

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter :) And again, thanks to my beta, GSFanatic for helping me out!

* * *

White. That was the only word that Lurie could use to describe his own office. Curtis had promised him that they weren't going to give his office away while he was on sabbatical, but Lurie had rationalized that emptying out the originally bland room was a safer option. Standing at the doorway with his briefcase, he took one last glance at the barren room before closing the door. The click of the lock closing signaled him to leave, but he stood there, staring at the mahogany.

Elated. Happy. Free. All words that should describe what he felt, but didn't. Instead, he felt as if somebody had just dropped a few more pounds on his shoulders. For he felt burdened - not with his patients' life, but with his own.

Closing his eyes, he warded off the on coming migraine and headed towards the exit. He tried ignoring the chaos around him as he passed the different parts of the hospital. Tidbits of sound bites still managed to get through: something about an officer flat lining in the ICU, Dr. Green calling for a tool in one of the surgical rooms and some lady inquiring about the lady's room; all things he desperately tried to block out as, for the first time in the past few years, he had nothing to focus on but his empty life.

* * *

During his time on his family farm, he had a lot of time to think about his priorities. He even had a time to read more than a few books on managing emotions, after finishing his county and the nearby counties' collection of medically related literature. His brother, who uses the farm as a summer house, had commented that he could have done all that reading in Vegas; and that Lurie flew back to Canada to get a passport stamp to show his boss that he did "have a life".

Lurie wasn't surprised that his older brother could see through that part of him; after all, he was a retired cop turned private investigator. But some part of him was glad to see that no cop, retired or not, could see the scars he hid underneath his medical coat.

_Paging Dr. Matthews, Dr. Matthews to the front desk please_.

The PA system brought him back to the present, standing in his office on his first day back. He smoothed his coat with his hands once again before placing the stethoscope around his neck. Reaching for the door handle, he stared at the small upside down reflection. He looked refreshed; the frown lines around his mouth had eased up a bit and there weren't bags underneath his eyes. But he also knew that not a lot has changed; the only difference was that bought a new, thicker, medical coat.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he left his office and made his way to the nurses' station; greeting and being greeted numerous times by hospital staff.

A friendly voice rang out as he approached the station "Dr. Lurie, what a pleasant surprise."

"You too, Bertha." He plastered on the biggest smile he could muster up his face. "Good to see that you're still here."

"I'm not leaving until they carry me out of here!" The older woman giggled as she searched in her piles of work, "Ah here it is. Curtis told me to give you these."

She handed him a small pile of files with a note attached on it. Lurie skimmed over the note, something about easing him back into the process and just giving him rounds with less complicated surgeries until he felt ready.

"So how was your vacation? Where did you go?"

Lurie looked up from his note. "Just went to the family farm up in Canada. I stared at sheep, reordered things, and helped my brother out with the family business."

"Sure sounds nice." Bertha commented as she handed files to another doctor. "Must be different from all this."

"Yeah," Lurie said as he flipped through his files. "It sure was." He nodded to the other doctor and winked at Bertha out of habit before walking in the direction of his first patient. For the first time in a year, Lurie felt that everything was back in place.

* * *

Up until two years ago, Sara was used to the ritual of waking up with nobody by her side. But over the past two years, she became accustomed to groggily opening her eyes to find Grissom either snoring away or staring right back at her with his baby blues. The latter freaked her out a bit at first.

"_I like watching you sleep." He smiled and tucked a lose piece of hair behind her ear. "You look so…beautiful."_

_"That's it?" Sara said as she closed her eyes and stretched. "Beautiful is all I get from the walking thesaurus?" _

_Grissom's relaxed demeanor was gone when she glanced at him again. "Griss, I was kidding." _

_Instead of answering, he pulled her to him and put his forehead on hers, allowing him to look right into her eyes. "I can always find a million other words to describe everything and anything." His said softly, "But with you, it's like the million words aren't good enough…so I'm forced to go back to the basics. You unsettle me like nobody can, Sara." _

_She didn't know what to say, so she just kissed him-morning breath and all. _

Sara smiled at the memory as she slowly opened her eyes and readjusted to the darkness in her room. Turning her head, she expected to find Grissom napping in his usual spot but instead was greeted by a copy of Bird Watching in Nevada magazine.

"You know, I don't think anyone really takes your bird obsession seriously."

Nick peeked out from behind the magazine. "And good morning to you too" He grinned as he put the magazine back on her bedside drawer. "I actually didn't bring that, believe it or not."

"The old lady who stayed in this room before me must have left it here." Sara yawned as her eyelids drooped a little. "They moved me in here last night after-" she yawned again, "after her husband complained about walking to far to visit her."

"Yeah I didn't really think that and this," He held up a catalogue for walkers, "is really your type of entertainment." Sara laughed a little as she fought off another yawn. "You know Sara, it's really fine if you sleep some more."

"But I barely see you these days, with everyone pulling doubles to fill in for me."

"I have a day off coming up, you'll see me then." Nick said gently, "Just go back to sleep Sara"

She nodded tiredly, "Where is he anyways?"

"Grissom had to wrap up some loose ends, so I volunteered to come answer your questions. Now sleep." With those words, Nick returned to his magazine as Sara nodded off.

* * *

He's often amazed by what the human brain is capable of doing. Aside from routine bodily functions, it also is capable of storing so many memories; wanted or not. At the moment, he was very thankful that he hasn't forgotten how to get room 435. Hidden away at the end the West wing of the forth floor, some patients enjoyed the privacy while other's, not so much.

Lurie skimmed over the last file of his round. A Marjorie Dawson, 70 year old lady who slipped on a puddle of water at home and ended up with a few broken bones. He continued reading as he headed for the end of the hall, not bothering to check room numbers until he reached the door. Returning to his reading, the case was worse than he had imagined initially, he knocked quickly and went into the room introducing himself without looking up.

"Hi Ms. Dawson, my name is Dr. Lurie. I will be looking after y-"

He stopped in his tracks as he glanced at the patient, not believing his eyes. She looked so real, so physical…like she was actually there. His fingers itched to touch her, to run his hand through her hair again, to-

"Err Doctor?"

Lurie snapped out of his trance and noticed for the first time that there was another person in the room.

"H-hi" Lurie stuttered as he tried to regain his composure, "I seem to have a file that wasn't updated. I'm going to go…now." With those words, he backed out the room slowly and closed the door, letting out an unsteady breath. He wanted to sprint down the hallway and back into his office, but the rational part of his brain stopped him from doing so; no need to re-instate his "half way to burn out" status in his colleagues eyes.

Taking a deep breath, he walked briskly down the hall and took the stairs down. He didn't want anyone to see him at the moment, not like this; with sweaty palms, pale skin and shaking hands.

* * *

TBC :)


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Not mine. Belongs to CBS/Alliance Atlantis and producers. Could you imagine what happened if CSI was mine?

A.N. : Thanks for your reviews! They're great in terms of getting feedback to see what I need to "fix". Just a note that this fic happens after Dead Doll (which is supposed to be right after Living Doll). Oh and sympathy for Lurie? What have I done?!?! :P I just noticed does something to your formatting...hmmm...

Big thanks to my beta, GSFanatic for her help and ...beta skills!

* * *

The journey back to his office was a blur to him. The only thing he remembered was how he felt as he waded through the crowded halls. It was if he had jumped into an ice old lake. Thoughts raced through his head at the speed of light, but his actions appeared to be on a time delay in his eyes. Sounds were muffled, and the room seemed brighter than usual. He struggled to not attract attention, with his pale demeanor and darting eyes, and that was all he remembered.

Now sitting in his dark office, blinds down to shield him from the curious eyes of the public, he felt a migraine coming on as questions, old and new, filled his head.

* * *

People always think that the nastiness of hospital food is exaggerated in movies, but Sara Sidle can tell you that the movies didn't do a good enough job. She eyed the different portions skeptically. After sleeping right through breakfast, she didn't want to miss the meal but the plate in front of her was unappealing, at the very least. The yellow amorphous blob on the top left hand corner of her tray was what they referred to as 'pudding'. No adjective, just 'pudding'. In the other far corner sat a pile of mashed green peas; or what Grissom liked to refer to as "dried sea moss". She could continue describing the meal, but she realized that would make her lose her appetite further.

With little enthusiasm, she spooned a portion of the mashed peas into her mouth. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand and noted it was a little past noon; meaning Grissom was bound to arrive sometime. Hopefully he would have some outside food. He had begun regularly sneaking in the contraband items for her, after her constant begging.

_She slapped on her biggest sad puppy eyes. "Come on Gil, please?"_

_"You know what the doctor said, Sara" He said, facing her as he sat on the edge of her bed. "Too much outside food may contain components which won't mix well with your stomach after all this hospital food you've been having."_

_"I'm not asking for a whole bento box with miso soup and wasabi," she pouted a little "Just, you know, a salad or something." She paused as she looked at the plate sitting on her night stand. "Just something with texture."_

_Grissom followed her gaze to the mashed peas and carrots. "Salad, no dressing." He finally conceded, much to her delight._

_"Yesss thank you." Sara beamed as she leaned forward and wrapped her arm around his neck to pull him closer. "You know, I always like Dr. Grissom's ideas more." _

_"Really? I think you should show him more often." He smirked, before placing his hands on her hips and leaning in to give her a long kiss._

A loud snore brought her back to reality. Nick had fallen asleep in the chair, oblivious to the havoc of Desert Palm. Sara felt a little guilty as she noted that visible rings underneath his eyes and the general look of fatigue on his face; undoubtedly caused by her inability to return to work. She had heard stories from Greg and Warrick about how short handed the shift was. Each of them would assure her it was not her fault at the end of their stories, but she wasn't stupid. She knew, that if only she had been smart enough to crack the case earlier, this wouldn't have happened; and they wouldn't be short-

Quick raps on the door stopped her thoughts as it opened to reveal Grissom bearing bags from In-N-Out.

"Hi" He smiled, almost shyly, as he entered.

"And good afternoon to you too" Sara smiled as she eyed the In-N-Out bag hungrily. "Is that a present for me?"

Grissom smirked as he placed one bag on the nightstand, and handed the other to her as he sat down in his spot on her bed. "We can't let find the evidence this time, alright?"

"Gil, we're trained crime scene investigators" She replied as she hungrily pulled out the content of the bag. "Ohhhh a veggie burger, you are a saint." Wasting no time, she pushed the wrapper aside and took a big bite.

"Technically, I would have to die and go through a lengthy consideration process for official status as a saint," He deadpanned, "but I'll take it as a compliment." He laughed as he felt a wad of napkins thrown by Sara hit him. Sitting there in silence, he watched her eat with her good hand and ruminated on how, merely three years ago, he would have never imagined this.

Not the Natalie case, but the very idea of bringing Sara lunch and making her smile or laugh. Just being with her, and being able to hold her, was labeled 'crazy' for too long. After nearly losing her to Natalie, he realized that she was more important to him than he had ever imagined; and that losing her, would be disastrous.

"Don't tell me you like watching me eat too." She said, finishing off her burger with record pace.

"Is there a problem with that?" He raised one brow at her. She just smiled as she finished off her food and stuffed the wrapper back in the bag. In the corner of Grissom's eyes, he noticed Nick had slowly come back from dreamland in the past minute. "Here" The other man looked surprised at the bag shoved into his possession.

"Aww thanks Grissom, you didn't have to." Nick said as he unwrapped his burger "Awesome, my favourite…with extra toppings?" He looked at Sara smile and down at his open jacket. A wad up bag sat between his T-shirt and his jacket. "So you're using me as a mule now?" he pretended to be offended.

"That's what the extra toppings are for." Grissom said as he watched Nick wrap the burger back up. "Well, that and I didn't want Sara having her toppings but still get my money's worth." He felt another napkin ball hit him.

"A few more weeks, honey," Grissom took her hand, "a few more and we get to bring you home."

Nick watched the scene unfold in front of him, and as much as he liked his colleagues, seeing them being…affectionate with each other was still something he had to get used to. "Alright, I'm off." He announced, before collecting his few belongings and saying his goodbyes.

He was half way to the door when he turned around. "Oh, and guys." He got their attention, "Some people looking for the lady who was in this room before might crash in, cause…what's his name…Dr. Leonard? No, that wasn't it…Larry? Not that either…." The couple sat waiting as he tried to bring up the name. "…Luria? No but right! Dr. Lurie."

He didn't notice the color drain from Grissom's face.

"Yeah, he came by on his rounds. Something about not getting updated files, but just a …heads …up." He finally noticed Grissom's, and Sara's, tense expressions. "What?"

A tense silence resided over the two after Grissom sent Nick home with orders to look up the Marlin case file. Thoughts flew through both of their heads but they kept to themselves, both wallowing in the implications and possibilities of the news.

While Grissom worried about Lurie's reaction to seeing Sara's resemblance to his dead lover, his bigger concern was that the doctor had killed Debbie and showed little remorse after the deed. The Marlin case remained on his cork board to this day, and it unnerved him to think the same man could have his sights on Sara now. Lurie's passion had turned him into a cold blooded killer once, and if he was still functioning as if nothing had happened, Lurie is a lot more dangerous than Grissom had ever thought.

"We should talk about this..." Her gentle and calm voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

He nodded in agreement but was at a loss of words for where to begin. "I guess... I guess the best place to start is how much you remember of the case."

They went over the details of the case for the next few minutes, both skimming the most important factor for a while until Sara harpooned the topic.

"...and she looked like me."

"God Sara, to say that she looked like you would be an understatement…" He trailed off, squeezing his eye shut as he fought back the memories of the crime scene. "Seeing her like that, and then meeting Lurie, I just wanted to get that bastard so bad."

"I know Griss," He opened his eyes as he felt Sara take his hands in hers. "I…I wanted to see who Lurie was, so I went to interrogation." Sara felt his hands stiffen as he began to pull away, but she held on.

He wasn't looking at her now, instead choosing to focus at their entwined hands. "How much did you hear?"

"All of it."

"You weren't supposed to be there." Grissom felt a migraine coming on as the revelations from the last half an hour was almost too much for him. Sara didn't need to know that he once considered his job more valuable than her. All she should know is how much he loved her.

He felt her let go of his hand and he instantly looked up, only to find her moving her meal tray back to its usual position on the ground. She didn't say anything as she turned back to him, but motioned that he moves closer. Confused, he followed her directions and suddenly found himself in the warmth of Sara's arms.

"Griss… I understand."

"Thank you." He relaxed into her arms and closed his eyes. _I'm such a lucky bastard. _

* * *

"Look Grissom, some people need sleep to function."

"I know, Jim, but this is important."

The man on the other side of the phone dropped his attitude after hearing the tone of his friend's voice. "Is Sara alright?" He asked, concerned at what would have gotten his

friend this worried.

"She's fine; I just slipped out while Dr. Wong's doing his check up." Grissom said, glancing inside the room through the small window, "But I need your opinion on something."

"The red pill."

Grissom couldn't help but smirk at his friend's comment. "Thank you, Morpheus, but this is a little more complicated." The smile dropped from his face. "Vincent Lurie saw Sara today."

"Shit."

"I want them to switch Sara into another room, but we don't have a solid reason and you know how busy Desert Palm is. We can't bring the Debbie case into this, or we risk Lurie finding out about this."

"And getting our asses sued off. Departmental policy says we can't disclose any cases under investigation to the public."

"Dutifully noted, Jim." Grissom didn't give a rat's ass about departmental policy at the moment, and Brass knew it.

"Look, Gil, we all care about Sara-you know that. But Lurie hasn't re-escalated for the past few years, at least in terms of killing again, so maybe he's over the Debbie obsession."

"But it doesn't make him any less guilty or capable of killing again."

* * *

TBC  
AN#2: Nick was away at the National Forensics Conference during Butterflied, which is why he had no idea who Lurie is. :)


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you for those who reviewed. I really appreciate your feedback because, as I've said before, it provides me with information on what I need to work on and improve. And, of course, it's nice to hear that somebody out there is enjoying my crazy ideas :) I'm sorry for uploading this chapter a day late, but RL has been hectic-which leads me to a mini announcement of sorts: due to the fact I'm starting a new job, I will be posting a new chapter every other Monday until further...notice. That makes me sound so high and almighty, when I'm not. lol. Anyway, I hoep you enjoy the new chapter.

Disclaimer: Not mine. If I owned CSI, I wouldn't have to start the new job.

* * *

He tried to stop, he really did, but it was out of his hands. He'd do it while he was stuck in traffic, with patients, reading files or even during meetings. She just wouldn't leave him alone.

By the third day after his encounter, Lurie knew he had to see her again. The window of opportunity was there, he just needed to gather up the courage to crash through it again. _I just need a double check. Maybe I was just seeing things. I probably was, right?_ Questions and thoughts like those ran marathons in his head, until he could barely mask his distraction from the public.

Knowing what had to be done, he approached the nurses' station on the floor, trying to look as casual as usual. He was lucky that the station was located far away and around a corner from her room, or else they would have seen his sprint a few days ago.

"Good afternoon Dr. Lurie" He didn't recognize the nurse, and highly doubted that she knew him past his name tag.

"Good afternoon, Michelle" Thank god for name tags. "There's a patient in room 450 that seems to be getting outside food. Can I just look at her visitor's log so I can try to figure out who's bringing it for her?"

He was impressed that he was able to spit the lame excuse out without stumbling on his words. Holding his breath, he studied the young nurse's reaction, praying she would believe his lie.

"Um, you probably don't work this floor often, but we don't keep visitors logs for this floor," She said with a small smile, "Patients on this floor are usually almost ready to go home, so they don't have restricted visitation hours so we don't really bother."

Lurie's jaw clenched as he digested the information. Not only did his plan fall apart, but the news of possibly never getting to see her again frustrated him to no end. Politely thanking her, he began walking away, deep in thought when he heard her call out his name again. He spun on his heels, causing his medical coat to lift in a cape like effect.

"But I've seen the patient in room 540 go to rehab a few times and the man who tends to accompany her comes in around 9 a.m. or so." She offered, in hopes of helping out the good doctor, "He tends to leave around 1 or 2 in the afternoon, and then another group of friends usually come around dinner time. But, yeah, hope that helps?"

A smile appeared on Lurie's lips. "That definitely helps. Thank you, Michelle."

* * *

If he didn't know better, he could swear that he was traveling close to the speed of light. It's been five minutes since Lurie glanced at the clock but it felt like time had slowed down to a crawl. Sitting in his office, he tried to direct his mind back to the piles of paper he had in front of him but was only successful for short bursts. He's dealt, and reacted, to seeing somebody looking like Debbie before, but never did he question himself like a few days ago.

Another look at the clock told him he had five more minutes to go. He had chosen this time because he knew that her visitors would have left by now, so he could interact with her one on one. Lurie felt his pulse speed up in anticipation, triggering memories of the last time he felt this mix of nervousness and adrenaline. It was when what's-his-face walked into the house earlier than he expected, and he had rush to set –

_No_. He told himself on his sabbatical that he needed to forget. Forget everything that involved Debbie on that day. _Just remember the good times. Her laugh. Her smile._ _You loved her like there was no tomorrow. And then you lost her. _. He knew that he was a long way from forgetting that incident, but he figured that if he repeated it enough-he would believe it eventually.

Repeating this mantra, he blew out a deep breath and turned back to the clock.

* * *

He had taken the stairs again in hopes of avoiding any questions asked. Reaching her door without encountering anyone, he crossed his fingers as he peeked through the window to check that no visitors had stayed longer than he expected. It was empty aside from her napping figure.

Steadying his breathing, he slowly pushed open the door and slipped into her room; closing it with the same care. He slowly turned to face her, nervous that his eyes had fooled him the first time. Looking at her, he let out a deep breath, bringing one hand to his mouth.

There she was. The cuts and scratches didn't detract from her beauty, which radiated from underneath the gauze and scabs. She looked a little different, but age does that to people. She had aged beautifully from the images that Lurie carried in his mind.

His emotions were getting harder and harder to identify with each step as he moved towards the bed. Happiness. Love. Shock. Surprise. All of it, and more, was just one feeling that he couldn't describe as he stood beside her sleeping figure.

His mantra was more believable than Darwin's theories for him at that moment. Fighting back tears, he removed his hand from his mouth and admired her. He thought he had lost her but fate had given him a second chance. His fingers itched to touch her skin, to run his hand through her hair, just anything to touch her to make sure she was real; not part of a dream he's had too many times.

Squatting beside her bed, he reached out with shaky hands to cup her face. His hand grew shakier and shakier as it neared the target destination. Feeling the warmth radiated off her body, he swallowed slowly as he prepared himself for the inevitable-

Light raps on the door caused him to stand up faster than ever and spin towards the door. He couldn't see who it was through the window, which he recognized was good as it meant that whoever it was didn't see his actions before the interruption. His mind was in full panic as he tried to make an excuse for whoever was on the other side.

He nervously watched the door open to see his colleague Dr. Wong with his hand on the handle, chatting with a nurse he didn't recognize before turning back to enter the room.

"Vincent?" The other man said, rather loudly. He quickly readjusted his voice after noticing his napping patient. "What are you doing here?" He whispered.

Lurie opened his mouth and closed it, before taking quick strides towards the other man and beckoning for them to go outside. He figured this would give him some time to make up another excuse.

In the halls, Dr. Lurie cleared his voice and turned towards the other man. "Sorry Tim, she's your patient right?" nodded. "I, uh, I actually got this old file the other day and went into her room thinking she was my patient in 230. But anyway, I saw the wounds and was interested in the techniques used to work on them. You know how skin grafting is one of my specialties, so I thought I'd drop by to take a look at the work again." He swallowed nervously "B-but it looks like the scratches were less damaging than I initially thought so no grafting was done, am I correct?"

Dr. Wong nodded. "Yes, she was very lucky in that all the scratches she encountered weren't deep enough to cause permanent damage." Lurie smiled, relieved that the man had bought his excuse. Wong on the other hand, took it as a prompt to continue. "She's a smart lady, that Sara; I wouldn't have thought to get away from that car if I was in her position."

Lurie's stomach dropped at the mention of her name. "Ri-right. Uh- well if she wants to know anything about her scars, you tell her-uh-that I can look at them for her; you know in case she's worried about scarring..." He forced a smile on his face. "So, I'll see you later Tim." Giving the man a pat on his back, he walked briskly towards the elevator; all the while trying to deal with the new information he had been dealt. _Sara._ That was all his brain could muster up as he stared at the elevator walls. Lurie was convinced there was a link between this woman and his Debbie; he just needed to figure out what this link was.

* * *

"Alright, just roll your arm a little to your left….and hold it"

Sara heard the X ray machine's whirr intensify for a few seconds before dying down again. Soon, the technician motioned that it was ok for her to go, triggering her to remove the lead pads and exit the room. Brass was standing with his hands in his pockets, in the exact same spot as she had left him twenty minutes ago.

"Don't tell me you just stood there the whole time." She said with a single brow arched.

"Nah, I pushed old ladies down those stairs to pass some time." He deadpanned, getting a smile from her. They began walking back to her room in easy conversation, when Sara noticed Brass' glancing looks at their surroundings every time they turned a corner or crossed an intersection.

"Did Grissom put you guys up to this?"

"To what?" His face was blank, a look he had mastered from years of being in the force.

"You know what I'm talking about." She replied as she watched him covertly check the other side of intersection. "Every time I'm scheduled for anything that Grissom can't make, you or Cath magically appear and act if everything's just a coincidence."

The man let out a deep breath as they rounded the last corner back to her room. "You know how much that case affected him, and why. He's just a little nervous about what this Lurie guy could be capable of."

Sara nodded as she kept herself, face unreadable for even a seasoned officer like Brass. They were a few doors from her room when she broke the silence. "Do you think he would? Try anything, I mean." She asked quietly.

"I don't know." Brass admitted, truly unsure of the answer himself. All he knew was that practicing caution around this fellow was probably the best idea.

"Grissom doesn't need this," Sara frowned "this…stress." Although there was little that she could have done to avoid Natalie at the garage, she felt that she could have prevented this whole mess if she had been smarter. She should have never parked in that dark corner in the almost abandoned parking garage. It was right out of the pages of a poorly written horror novel, and yet she did it. Her negligence of common sense had triggered a series of events that scarred and haunted them both. Now, with Lurie complicating issues further, she felt this guilt intensify with every drop of his name. Letting out a breath, she glanced into the room through the small window. To her surprise, Grissom was sitting beside her bed, gazing intensely at something on his lap through his reading glasses.

Brass followed her gaze. "You both deserve a nice long life especially after this Natalie thing." He gave her a tired smile and opened the door for her.

Grissom looked up from his work at the sound of the door opening, re-adjusting his glasses as he did so.

"How was X-rays?"

"Nothing exciting." Sara replied, sitting down cross legged on her bed and facing him. "What are you working on?"

Grissom shrugged a little, taking off his reading glasses and crunching up the object in his hand before placing it into his pocket. "Nothing… just trying my hand at something." He began reaching for a paper structure on her night table but she got it before he could give it the same treatment as its sibling.

Sara studied the item on her palm and tried holding back the smirk that instinctively fell on her lips. "Is this supposed to be a crane?"

He grinned at her, almost shyly. "Doesn't really look like one in my opinion… According to ancient Japanese folklore, a thousand origami cranes strung together will grant a person a wish." Taking the lopsided crane from her, he continued "People tend to wish for recovery from an illness or a long life."

"Sadako and a Thousand Paper Cranes." He nodded in response as she took the bird back from him. "One of the foster kids I stayed with read that book and started working on his thousand. The older kids made fun of it, and they burned his cranes one night when he was in bed. He was half way there...it just broke him" Grissom grimaced at the sad ending for the story, and encased her hand in his. She's faced so much, she deserves a happy life; and Grissom wanted to guarantee her one.

Brass shuffled awkwardly out of his corner, breaking the somewhat-depressing silence that had fallen on the group. "I gotta get some more sleep before shift. I'll see you in a few days, alright?" He gave Sara a soft pat on her good shoulder.

"See ya." She smiled as he headed towards the door. He smiled at her and nodded to Grissom before opening the door and leaving the room.

Turning her attention back to Grissom, Sara rubbed his fingers absentmindedly. He was still staring at the door, deep in thought about something. "So, what were you going to wish for?" She asked, trying to lighten up the mood.

He snapped out of his faze, "I don't know, I figured I would know by the time I finished my thousand." She laughed, triggering a smile on his part. The past few months have been tough on both of them as individuals and as a couple. He knew it would take time to fix their issues, but it didn't make the task any less difficult. "Of course, I also hoped that by a thousand, it'll look more like a crane and less duck with skinny wings."

"Well I think it looks cute this way." She placed the crane back on the table. "You might want to get started on that other nine hundred and ninety nine though."

"And I'm guessing you want to watch and learn?" He let go of her hand and reached in his pockets to pull out a stack of small squares.

"Under normal circumstances yes, but seeing I've actually tried a hand at this art before-and failed miserably-no."

Grissom raised a lone brow and smirked. "The infallible Sara Sidle failed at mastering a skill? I have to alert the media!"

She reached back for the cushion that Warrick had brought her and playfully whacked him with it. "At least mine didn't look like a fat duck." She retorted.

"You women are so fickle." He sighed dramatically as he began folding the paper.

Sara propped up her pillow against the headboard with one arm and leaned back as she watched Grissom. "I believe Shakespeare wrote that you men were even more so."

Grissom opened his mouth to retort but was interrupted by quick raps on the door. They looked at the door to see Dr. Wong enter.

"Ah good, both of you are here!"

Grissom's brows instantly pulled together, worried at the prospect of bad news.

"No no, nothing bad Dr. Grissom- don't look like I just stepped on your pet spider." Dr. Wong grinned as he closed the door. "I just came by to tell you that the X-rays came back and your bones are healing as expected, Ms. Sidle."

He paused as he watched the couple exchange smiles. LVPD had never released why Sara was taken, only that the MCSK wanted revenge on the crime lab because she felt they had forced her foster father to kill himself. That said, when he was assigned the case and saw the interactions between the two criminalists, he could guess why Natalie had chosen to take a woman so important to the lead investigator of her case. They asked him to keep this revelation to himself, and although he was a very talkative guy, he did because he knew how important this was to their jobs. Even the hospital discouraged interoffice romances; well as much as they could anyways.

"So it looks like you're right on track to go home in a few weeks, Sara. That said, I've been told by Anna up at rehab that you've been really pushing yourself the past few sessions." He looked at Grissom, "I just wanted to tell you this, Dr. Grissom, because we both know how she'll only listen to me if you and your friends help me enforce my rules. But anyway, don't push yourself so hard Sara. We don't want to push our luck with that small crack in the upper Humerus-even if the X rays show it's almost at a hundred percent. If that crack worsens and gets to the point we have to patch it up, it'll just slow down when you can get back on your job. Just try not to use that arm too much ok, and report any pain, alright?"

The weight of the car had affected more of her arm than she had initially predicted. Aside from the lower portion which was in a cast, it had caused a thin fracture line to run up the higher bone in her arm; leading to a small crack that the doctors thought could heal naturally. They had placed her in a full arm brace for a month and a half, removing it only in the past month when they felt safe that it didn't worsen. Since then, she's had been going to sessions to readjust to moving at least that part of her arm as carefully as possible.

"Alright doctor," She realized it was better to appease than to argue in this case. Especially since she knew she was outnumbered as Grissom was going to parrot Dr. Wong, since his concerns were valid concern as much as she hated to admit.

"Well that's all I really have." Dr. Wong said as he took one more glance at his files. "I should add that, in case you were ever worried about any scarring on your face, my colleague Dr. Vincent Lurie dropped by when you were napping a few days ago and he agreed that any scars won't be permanent."

Sara shifted uncomfortably as she saw out of the corner of her eye Grissom tensing up beside her. "Oh…..thanks?"

"He's a tissue grafting expert who was on sabbatical for a year or so, so I'm not sure if you've met him before; but he knows his stuff. I think he got a pretty good look at your face too, so definitely no problems there. If you let him do a hands-on examination, he might be able to tell you more about your wounds…" Grissom tuned out after hearing Sara politely refuse the offer and focused on the detail the man had just uncovered. Lurie was here, in Sara's room, watching her. God knows what he could have done if Dr. Wong hadn't interrupted his "examination". He looked at Sara, whose knowing gaze locked onto his.

"…I have to run now, but don't be surprised if a he drops by to discuss your wounds more, he seems to have taken a special interest in how they healed."

Sara slapped on her biggest fake smile on earth as she bid farewell to the doctor; all the while Grissom tried to do the same thing.

The uncomfortable silence that was upon them once reappeared again, this time even worse. Sara knew that Grissom was beyond the point of worried from this news, and this made her nervous.

"I have to get you out of here. Out of this room at least, I can't let him see you again." He said tensely.

"Is he really this big of a threat Gil?" Sara asked softly, trying to ease his fears. "He hasn't re-escalated for the past 4 years or so, would he do anything?"

Grissom's brows were so furrowed that he almost looked like he had a unibrow "I don't want to take that risk." He let out a deep breath and took Sara's hands. "He came back to see you. Lurie obviously recognized something. I just…can't risk putting you in that type of danger again, Sara. Not another maniac."

"Natalie was not your fault." Sara squeezed his hand to reaffirm her point.

He gave her a quick kiss on the back of her hand before getting up. "I'm going to ask the nurses' desk to see if the doors could be locked, I'll be right back."

Sara nodded as he headed towards the door. The all too familiar words repeated in her head again as he opened the door. _If only I had been smart enough …_

"I figured out what to wish for." His voice snapped her out of her thoughts, as his worried gaze fell on hers. "A nice long and safe life for us would be nice."

Sara gave him a small smile. "I'll start folding." Grissom smiled back before exiting, but she knew his heart rate was still racing; just like hers was.

* * *

TBC

A/N#2: Not a doctor. Dr. oOng's whole spchiel was made up with little research on google, please don't flame me telling me I got it all arong! *whimpers in the corner*


	5. Chapter 5

A.N. pt 1: Sorry for posting late; was shaken by the news of the Air France plane and reading up on the news. My deepest symphathies to all the families and friends who have (most probably) lost loved ones. Of course, like many others, I hold out hope and pray for a miracle.

A.N. pt 2: Thank you for the reviews on the last chapter. I am glad that you guys seem to be enjoying the ride so far. I hope you enjoy this one, and the following chapters, as much. Oh and if anyone can teach me how to indent on this lovely site, that would be great! :D

Disclaimer: Don't own a thing. I could sing you "If I had a Million Dollars", except with 'a Million Dollars' replaced with "CSI" , but I think you get the point.

* * *

Since his return three weeks ago, Curtis had re-instated him with the full burden of responsibilities that he had before he left. It was during his daily scheduling of interns when it hit him. It was part of his job to see what experience certain interns had to qualify for higher level surgeries. All he had to do was go back a few months on the computer and he would know who she was.

His fingers itched to carry out the plan. Lurie feared that there was some way the computer tracked his very move, but it was a risk he was willing to take. He had wrestled with the idea for several days since learning her name, but his need to know won out. Now sitting in his dark office, face illuminated only by the glow of the screen, he began editing his search filter to find the right interns. He didn't know when she came in, but judging by her wounds, the range could be from three months to one month ago.

The sound of his fingers flying over the keyboard echoed off the walls. He didn't understand why he felt the nervousness he did, but he couldn't ignore it as he would glance at his door every few seconds; as if he was afraid somebody would barge in and catch him doing his job. Unconsciously, his breathing quickened as the last few parameters were set and he hit the filter button. Watching the hourglass do its flips, he rubbed his sweaty palms nervously.

The machine chattered away as Lurie grew more anxious by the second. He was sure that just a few more seconds-

"Vincent?!?" Loud knocking followed, causing him to slam his laptop close instinctively.

"You in there?"

Swearing underneath his breath, he wiped his sweaty palms on his lab coat as he got up. "One second, David." Lurie wrenched open the door quickly and squinted to readjust with the brightness of the halls. "How uh-how can I help you? Don't we have a meeting with the board soon?"

"Yeah, that soon is kind of now." The other man rocked on the heel of his feet. "I saw you just sent everyone the intern rotation for next week so figured your clock must be slow."

Lurie glanced at his watch. "Yeah, mine still gives me ten minutes. Umm just let me get my stuff, and I'll be right with you." He ducked back into his dark office and quickly dug through his file holder, giving a quick glance at the closed laptop as he quickly ran through his schedule for the rest of the afternoon. He had surgery scheduled after the meeting, followed by an appearance at some fundraiser where he had to represent Desert Palms; leaving him away from the hospital and server for the rest of the evening. Swearing again, he pulled out the right file and resigned himself to another day of waiting.

* * *

Gil Grissom wasn't the type of boss that held routine team meetings. Most of his team thought that he avoided them at all cost. Grissom, on the other hand, always explained it as that their profession had team meetings every night when they worked together to solve cases. This was why his announcement at the end of assignment distribution surprised his team, even in light of recent events.

"Right after shift?"

"Yes, Greg, I believe I said that earlier."

"Is it abou-"

"I will see all of you there." Grissom abruptly stated, standing up and retreating back to his office in mere seconds.

Greg looked around at the rest of his shift, confused at what he did wrong. Nick and Catherine exchanged knowing looks before shifting into motion to go their separate ways.

On her way out, Catherine swiveled his chair roughly, causing Greg to nearly fall out if it weren't for the arms. "Wha-" He started, wondering what he had done to offend the woman.

"The walls have ears Greg." Her words stopped his protestations as he looked in the direction that she had him facing. Hodges sure looked interested in the upside file he was reading.

* * *

Greg remembers the days when he sat in the lab all day. He blasted his music while prepping samples, as long as Grissom was out of range, and even danced around with evidence on his head once. What he didn't remember was being as annoyingly nosy as a certain trace technician was being now. Hodges didn't have to open his mouth, but you could tell that he was itching to try and get some information out of the CSI.

"God Hodges, just ask and stop staring at me like that!" Greg said, unable to take another minute of the stare that tech was giving him. He'd been slowly wearing him down during the short wait period in which the GC-MS took to spit out results.

Hodges grinned as he watched the machine spit out the results. Greg gives in so easily at times. "So, I heard Grissom called a team meeting."

Greg tried to grab the results from his hands but Hodges pulled them away. Like the donkey with the dangling carrot, Greg knew he had no choice but to answer to Hodges' demand. "What don't you hear?"

"True." He said smugly, "What are you guys going to be talking about? Word in the lab says that Grissom never calls meetings."

"I don't know, if he wanted the whole lab to know about it, he would have told you." Greg snatched the paper from Hodges' hand and grinned at him before leaving Trace promptly, hurrying to said meeting.

After leaving a message for Vega to confirm that they had the right guy, he hurried into Grissom's office and arrived just as his supervisor was about to close the door. Placing himself on the couch beside Doc Robbins, they all waited for the man who they had come to admire in some way, to say something.

Greg had noticed that Grissom was rather grumpy the past few weeks, and looked as if he wasn't getting any good sleep in the same time period. Even his eyes lacked the usual sparkle of curiosity and eccentricity that it usually held. He looked around eagerly, wondering if this meeting would explain any of his observations.

Grissom, now back in his throne, closed the open file on his desk; sweeping away the silence that had resided in the room. Pulling off his reading glasses, he stared down the crew in front of him. Although he rarely admitted it, these people were his family, and he relied on their support much more than it appeared on the surface. He just hoped they would be able to help him this time.

"This file has been on my corkboard for years." He began, holding up a generic brown folder. "Aside from Nick, we all worked the Debbie Marlin case; and we all know why it's so special." He stopped for a brief moment, unsure of how to continue. "I called this meeting today because I've found out that Dr .Vincent Lurie still works at Desert Palm…and he's seen Sara, twice."

Catherine, sitting in the chair by Grissom's desk, shifted uncomfortably at the news. "Did he initiate contact the second time?" Brass had informed her of the appearance of the doctor before Grissom asked them to keep the news to themselves, afraid of further feeding the lab gossip mill.

"Yes. Sara was napping. Her doctor walked in before anything could happen."

Warrick pushed off the wall he was leaning against as the full implication of the news sunk in. "Wait, how long have you guys known about this Lurie situation? Am I the only one out of the loop?"

"No, I didn't know about it either." Doc Robbins answered with a glare at Warrick's direction. Now was not the time to pout about not being in the upper echelons of Grissom's circle of confidants. He turned to Grissom. "When does she go home?"

"Three weeks is what they planned. They still have a few tests to run, and her arm isn't at hundred percent yet." Grissom replied, and being able to predict the next question, continued "I've considered bringing her home prematurely but we're too short staffed for me to take leave so I can take care of her. She also didn't like the idea of hiring anyone to help her out; claims she will be just fine on her own." His last statement garnered a chuckle from the room. It was a typical Sara comment.

"Uhhh Grissom, can I see the file? I was still a tech when you guys worked this case…" Greg was feeling a little out of the loop. He had worked the case as a lab tech with little knowledge about Ms. Marlin except that she was a nurse. Of course, he had heard tidbits of why Grissom was so obsessed, but all the information came from the lab grapevine.

His boss handed Brass the file, who in turn began handing Greg the file when the shrill sound of his cell phone went off. Excusing himself, he left the room after handing the file off.

"So how can we help?" Nick asked, as Brass shut the door behind himself.

"I need a reason to move Sara. A reason," Grissom continued, stopping Nick from giving the obvious answer "that does not disclose the details of the Debbie Marlin case."

"Because a cold case is still a case." Catherine followed, predicting the next question that Nick was about to ask. "Standard procedures of not releasing information to anyone about an ongoing investigation still apply."

The Texan looked a little disgruntled as he readjusted his posture against the wall. "Well what else can we use? We've maxed out the LVPD medical insurance already to get her the best room. It's just a little far from the entrance, and Sara can't use the 'walking too far' excuse."

"What if we don't do that?" Warrick asked, "What if we pay less and move her to a shared room. Other patients in the same room might stop Lurie from doing anything harmful."

"It all depends on what equipment she needs." Doc Robbins spoke up, "And Sara still had a few raw wounds when I visited a few days ago. The hospital might not want to take the risk of possible infection by air born viruses brought in by visitors in a multi patient room, even with gauze and bandages in place."

Grissom let out a deep breath. He knew it was unreasonable to expect his team to give him an answer right away, but he had hoped anyways. In this room contained some of the brightest minds in America, and this had buoyed his hopes for a while. "Well, if anyone has any idea, call-"

"But I do believe I have a viable solution." Doc Robbins interrupted as he looked up from his Blackberry. "I just went through my contacts, and I realized that my roommate from John Hopkins works at Desert Palms. I'll work on it."

The team watched as Grissom's seemed to relax for the first time in weeks. He was in the middle of thanking Doc when Brass re-entered the room with a tired look on his face. Grissom didn't notice this as for the first time in weeks, he felt a sense of hope; perhaps their life could return to something near what they had before Natalie.

As the rest of the team left, under specific orders to not mention the news of Lurie to anyone outside of that room, Grissom noticed that Brass was still sitting in the chair in front of him.

"Natalie snapped out of her psychosis sometime last night." Brass said calmly "State assigned DA officially announced that she'll be pleading insanity. Mckeen's holding a press conference at noon and he wants both of us with him."

"Why?" Grissom never liked being bombarded by media questions, and he knew Brass had the same attitude. "We already told them we have enough evidence to get her in jail for life."

Brass grunted. "You know McKeen loves to talk about high profile cases. He wants to sit in the Sheriff's chair, you know."

Grissom grunted. He hated politics.

* * *

To say the start of his day was hectic would be an understatement. After dealing with his morning rounds, not one but two code blues, and a long meeting, Lurie felt that he was losing precious time in his inquest. The nurse' words about Sara being discharged soon had resonated in his head throughout the whole morning, leaving him zoned out at points.

He briskly walked towards the elevator, planning to grab a sandwich from the cafeteria before tending to the important task. Glancing into a staff room, he was stopped in his trek by a chattering crowd that had gathered in the room.

"Hey what's going on?" Lurie shouted into the room, afraid he had missed some important memo about an event.

A few of his colleagues yelled something back but the chatter monster ate it up as soon as their words left their mouths. Irked, Lurie entered the room and repeated his question to his colleague.

"It's a press conference fo-"

The other doctor was silenced by a loud "It's starting!" from somewhere else in the crowd. Turning to watch the TV that resided in the upper corner of the room like his peers, Lurie wandered what everyone was so interested in.

"And now, two months after her initial arrest, we'll be broadcasting directly from the LVPD press conference about this latest twist in the Miniature Killer case." A woman's voice said as the screen cut to a close up of man sitting in front of a generic LVPD backdrop. Lurie recognized the figure as the Undersherriff.

The man cleared his throat and stared into the camera. "Good afternoon. As you may have already read in today's paper, Natalie Davis' attorney announced that she will be officially pleading insanity in her upcoming trial. I am here today, on behalf of the LVPD and the Crown Attorney, to announce that we will not change our charges against her for the first degree murder of Izzie Delancy, Penny Gardner, Raymundo Suarez, and Officer Kalmen; in addition to assault, kidnapping and attempted murder of criminalist Sara Sidle."

Lurie watched as his colleagues seemed enraptured by the television. It appeared that his leave had taken him away from Vegas while this "miniature killer" struck. He was about to ask his colleague beside him why the case was so special when the Undersheriff continued.

"We would like the public to know that the LVPD and crown will not let a cold blooded killer get away with the murder of so many innocent lives. In addition, the crime lab and police force have sufficient evidence to prove that Natalie was more than sane in her last attack on criminalist Sara Sidle. I ensure you that we will try our best to make sure she does not get a lighter sentence than what she deserves, a minimum of life without parole. I have with me lead criminalist Dr. Gil Grissom, and lead Detective, Captain James Brass; they will be answering any further questions you may have about this case."

The camera pulled out from the close up on McKeen to reveal two obviously uncomfortable men on each side of the Undersheriff. Lurie stared at the screen as it now focused on the criminalist who was listening to a question. His face and name sounded familiar, but it was when the man opened his mouth to talk, Lurie knew why.

"_It's sad isn't it doc. Couple of middle-aged men like us…"_

Lurie breathed in deeply as the recollection of his words mixed triggered his memories from that day. His mind raced as images of Debbie, Michael Scott, blood, butterflies, the bathroom and anything related, exploded from suppressed state it was in.

_Overhearing the two discuss their plans the day before had pushed him over the edge. Debbie knew he still loved her, as he said so many times to her after she left him. Shoving it in his face like that was more than cruel. The last domino was tipped and he felt his heart harden from the force of his anger. He drew up a simple but effective plan and stole equipment from the hospital the next day. It was noon, guaranteeing that nobody near by would be home to see him. He walked right through the front door and began his work in blind rage and jealousy. _

_He was surprised by how easy it was to dismember him. Michael Scott flirted with every woman in the hospital, and was just playing Debbie-Lurie was sure of that. He deserved to have his body parts strewn all over, so that nobody can find his worthless being. Lurie laughed as he felt his pulse slowly returning to normal pace after the adrenaline of revenge wore off. Letting out a breath, he looked around the bathroom to assess the clean up job. That's when his eyes landed on her, and he felt his heart stop. _

_It was mere seconds before he felt tears slip down his cheeks as the full force of what he did hit him. Ripping off his dirty gloves, he kneeled down and pulled her body to his chest with shaky hands. There was no use of calling to God now, but he still did. They were supposed to have 2.1 children and a house with a white picket fence. He had robbed himself of that._

He felt lightheaded as every single detail from that incident came back to him for the first time in years. _"...You killed them both, and now you have nothing."_ The criminalist's voice now joined the mess of images and noises in his head. Lurie began feeling sick to his stomach as the memories became too much. He turned and bolted for the door, only to run right into one of his colleagues.

"Hey are you ok?" Tim steadied Lurie by grasping him on each side of his arms. "You look a little pale."

"Y-yeah." Lurie chuckled nervously after apologizing, "Just going back to the office. Didn't have lunch."

"Ah, I better let you go then." He let him go, adding as Lurie walked pass him "Oh and I talked to Sara about her wounds."

Halfway from the door, Lurie stopped in his tracks. His thoughts sped up even more as questions of who the mystery woman was and her resemblance, mixed in with the images of Debbie and that day. "Y-yes?"

"She said she's fine with just knowing that she won't have scars. But she thanks you for offering to look at them."

"Oh." That was all Lurie could force out as he felt a migraine heading his way.

Tim looked at the TV. "Sometimes, I can't believe that she survived that, you know?"

"What?" Lurie didn't understand. But he doubted he could understand anything at that moment, with all those thoughts doing laps in his head.

"The miniature killer," Tim said with a raised brow, "Sara, she was the criminalist taken by that maniac. Haven't you read up on what you missed while you were gone?"

* * *

TBC

*DUN DUN DUN*


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Don't own a thing. Wish I did.

A.N: Thanks to my beta GSFanatic ( I can't believe I didn't thank her for the past two chapters! Extremely embaressed here). Once again, thanks for the reviews and I hope you guys enjoy the chapter.

* * *

"Dr. Grissom, Elizabeth Hagens from the Vegas Sun. Under Sheriff McKeen mentioned that the crime lab has evidence that the Miniature Killer was, and I quote, more than sane, when she kidnapped your CSI. Can you elaborate further?"

One thing that irked Grissom to no end was the media's use of the name "the miniature killer". Names like that gave anonymity to the killer; it made the public forget a real person was behind the murders committed. Leaning into his mike, Grissom cleared his throat. "As this case hasn't officially gone to trial, it's protocol that I can only reveal so much. All I can say is that Natalie Davis' last attack deviated from her signature. This is not something that triggered psychopathic killers tend to do; combined with more evidence-we believe we know why Natalie attacked Ms. Sidle."

"Dr. Grissom, David Michaels from the Vegas Tribune. We hear from a source your sabbatical earlier this year was due to the stress from this case. Is that true, and did your trip help in solving this case?"

A comment about his sabbatical was about to roll of his tongue when Dr. Wong's words replayed in his head.

"_He's a tissue grafting expert who was on sabbatical for a year or so, so I'm not sure if you've met him before…" _

Grissom realized then that Lurie may have never even heard of the Davies case before today. News programs would no doubt show the LVPD released picture of Sara from their press kit for this case, followed by this conference. Lurie would not only know her name, but her occupation and the rest would soon follow. He felt his mouth go dry as the full prospect what they had done hit him.

" Uh...sir?"

He took a deep breath, brain too worried about the Lurie situation to remember what he had originally planned to say. "My sabbatical was triggered by a combination of years of being on the job a-and personal reasons."

"Well thank you ladies and gentleman, I am afraid I will have to wrap this up now." McKeen announced, unnerved by Grissom's sudden loss of focus. It was unlike the man to zone out in the middle of work; especially in such a high profile case. He got up, and the two others followed his action; with Grissom hurrying out the door back to PD.

"What's up with him?"

Brass' face was unreadable as he brushed pass McKeen to follow Grissom. "Whatever it is, you know it's important."

Leaving the press room, Brass hunted the halls of PD until he found Grissom talking on the phone in his office. The detective sat down behind his desk and kept silent until Grissom ended his phone call with a frustrated sigh. Brass waited for Grissom to deliver the news.

Grissom pinched the bridge of his nose, "Doc's friend is still working on moving Sara."

"And?"

"We just gave Vincent Lurie Sara's name, occupation and a direction to look into for more information."

* * *

The first thing he did was open up Google News. Lunch was easily forgotten as he watched the articles pop up on his laptop screen. For the rest of the afternoon, he read all the articles he could find about Sara Sidle and the Miniature Killer. By the time it was for him to do his rounds, he was caught up on the case against Natalie Davis and what she had done towards Sara. He went further and Googled her name for any background information, but came up with little; a few research articles and papers but nothing revealing.

As he did his rounds, he struggled to pay attention to the charts and papers he was supposed to be reading. Although he now knew all the details to why she was at Desert Palms, something still bugged Lurie. He had dealt with the night shift before, but he had never seen her; nor has he heard anyone in the hospital mention a criminalist, people who regularly make trips to Desert Palms to pick up evidence, who looked like the late Debbie Marlin. _Debbie._ He gripped the clipboard he was holding harder as he suppressed his emotions by repeating what he had taught himself. . _Just remember the good times .Just remember the good times._

Sleepwalking through his rounds, he finished early as expected and found himself in front of the elevator. His office is on the fourth floor and she was on the sixth. Glancing at his watch, he noted it was near five in the afternoon. Not quite dinner time. The ding of the elevator announced that his time was up, he had to decide now. Taking a deep breath, he made up his mind and watched as the doors opened.

Lurie entered the elevator, nodding at the young man who was already in it. He turned to punch the button when he noticed the sixth floor was already lit up. Pausing for a second, he glanced at the young man through his reflection in mirrors on the wall. He looked familiar…and nervous; unnerving Lurie and triggering him to punch his own floor in. Standing away from the panel, Lurie's eyes would dart at the other man a few times as the ride continue. He didn't notice, but the other man was doing the same. They were nearly at the fourth floor when the young man's cell rang.

The young man grabbed his phone from his belt and answered as Lurie got off "S-Sanders speaking"

* * *

He didn't mean to be here. All he wanted to do was to pick up some milk at the corner store, but he was out of cash and the store's ATM was busted so he drove to the nearest supermarket. After paying for his carton, he was nearly out of the store when a bucket of pink roses by the floral booth flagged him down.

Debbie loved these. He would bring her a bouquet every time he went over. Taking one in his hands, he ran his fingers over the scars of the thorns that had once been there. People were so quick to forget what had once existed. They only focus on the obvious, like the bud of a rose.

"Can I help you, sir?" A mildly squeaky voice said. Lurie spun around to see an awkward teenager in an apron. The teen continued. "Women really l-love those. Would you like some for your wife?"

Lurie glared at him. "Why do you think I'm married?"

"Oh, I was just assuming and I know I shouldn't…." The teen squeakily rambled on as Lurie thought over his words. There was an article he read while in Canada about biological encoding factors affecting how twins would find the same pictures aesthetically appealing. So if Debbie liked these roses, Sara would probably too, right?

"…and I mean, I didn't mean to offend you, Sir. I just tend to say too-"

"I'll take one." All Lurie wanted to do was to talk to her, and he figured bringing her a small gift would be a good idea. First impressions are everything right?

* * *

He had taken his usual path to her room. During his ascent, he tried to figure out how to even begin talking to her. In his previous visits at around the same time, she had been napping so the talking aspect had never factored into his plans. As he got closer to her floor, he had a rough plan of how to approach her if she was awake. In the end, all he wanted was to talk to her about…anything. He just wanted to know who she is and where she's from; all the five Ws in sense.

Feeling nervous, he opened the door into the hall slowly and peaked around the frame to make sure nobody was there to question what he was doing. The hall was empty as expected, so he walked as silently as he could towards her room a few doors away. His nervousness increased by every step until he was at her room. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his fist back to knock when he glanced through the small window to see her bed empty.

Confused and slightly panicked, he quickly entered and assessed the state of the room. The bed was unmade, personal belongings gone, but the garbage still contained signs of recent activity. It was like if she has just left. Lurie threw the rose down onto the bed as he sat on the edge and felt his pulse begin racing. He threaded his fingers through his hair as he pondered the idea that she had left; that he had lost his chance with her.

Lurie let out a deep breath as he looked around again. His eyes fell on his reflection in the television. It was a familiar sight, with his shoulders slumped forward and hair a mess.

"_Marry me."_

_She tensed up in his arms. "What did you say?" _

"_Marry me, Debbie." Her reaction was troubling, and not the one he was expecting. Ok, so it probably wasn't a good idea to propose in the middle of foreplay-but he just blurted it out and he wasn't going to take it back. He tightened his hold on her "I mean it Debbie, marry me."_

"_Y-you don't mean that." She pushed her way out of his hold, leaving him confused. _

_He felt his stomach drop as she scrambled around the room to find her bathrobe. "I do, Debbie, what is this?"_

_She glanced at him as she found his dress shirt. "It wouldn't work." The shirt hit him. "W-we're just too different." His boxers followed the same trajectory. _

_His confusion was quickly being replaced by anger. They had been dating for two months, and he had never felt this way about another woman before. "What do you mean? We have common interests-"_

"_Oh yeah, like what?"_

"_Medically related topics…uh…fishing…uh…baseball…" Lurie looked around her room to get more hints as to what he could add to the list. "I mean, you really liked it that time when I brought you up to Lake Mead or when we went to the 51s game."_

_She had pulled on her bra and panties by now. "How about clubbing? Or even just going dancing-" She shushed him as he tried to interrupt "– where they don't have a string quartet playing the music?" Her robe was on by now. "Look…I'm sorry Vincent." _

_He swore he saw pity in her look. Glancing at her vanity table mirror, he could see why she gave him that look. A middle aged man with his shoulders slumped forward, hair in a mess and on the verge of bursting into tears like a child. _

"_I think you better go." Her voice was quiet, but her message was loud and clear. With that, she left the room._

His looks had changed, but Lurie wondered if he was the same man. He was about to get up when his eyes strayed from his face in the reflection to something else in the image that caught his eye. Leaning over the end of the bed, he plucked a clipboard off the location it was attached to.

It was uncommon for the hospital to leave these papers lying around after a patient had been discharged. They should have been filed correctly by the attending physician. A huge mistake like this doesn't go unnoticed…and that's when it hit Lurie. Perhaps the chance was still there…just in a different room. He threw the clipboard onto bed and rushed back to his office with an idea in mind.

* * *

Her days at Desert Palms were routine. Get up, eat bland lumps of "food", get accompanied by one of her friends to an appointment, nap, eat more lumps, watch some daytime television or read, go out for a stroll with her friends, lumps again before some TV and bed. Sara now understood Hank's perspective of life.

The clock on the wall told her she had an hour or so before her friends would arrive. Lately they've been arriving earlier than they had before; as if they were on some sort of guard rotation that gave them just enough sleep to go to work later. It was inevitable to avoid the guilt she felt for the rings under their eyes. Part of her wanted to relieve them of their duty. She had faced off against one 'maniac' and the possibility of a repeat performance didn't shake her that much. The other part of her knew that her lack of interaction with the actual man meant she could be grossly underestimating the doctor. He had recognized her, and as Grissom said to her yesterday, now knew her name from all the news stations coverage of the new twist in the Natalie Davis case. _Grissom. _A sad smile fell on her lips as she remembered that conversation.

"_Hey" He greeted her with the usual smile, but she could tell something was wrong._

"_Hi." Sara replied, sitting up before shifting slightly to make space for him on the bed. She remained silent for a few seconds after he sat down. Sometimes you have to give the man some space. _

_And so they sat like that for a minute or two. "Did you watch the press conference at noon?" He wasn't looking at her. _

"_Yes…" She knew he didn't like talking to the cameras, but she doubted this was the real reason. _

"_Your face will be plastered on all the newspapers tomorrow morning, and probably tonight's six O Clock news." His face was unreadable, but as he turned to face her, she could see the frustration in his eyes. "Vincent Lurie will know as much as the press knows about you; and more if he tries to search you up on the internet."_

_Sara took his hand and squeezed it. "I'm sure Doc Robbins' friend will figure something out...and if not, I'm out of here in two weeks anyways, right?" _

_Grissom didn't reply, but just pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed her. _

The chatter of a group of nurses outside her room reminded her of where she was. True to her words, Doc Robbins' friend was able to pull some strings for her to get a room located in a busier part of the hospital. She didn't know what Doc said to his friend to get her there, but she was sure Grissom was happy when he was told the news. He hasn't dropped in since her move was after his last visit before his shift, but she could imagine that some part of the worry has been removed.

Turning her attention back to the box, she channel surfed until she landed on a rerun of the old Astro Quest series. It was cheesy and hokey, but a better alternative to soaps. She had finished the latest set of forensics literature that Grissom had brought her already, so this was the best alternative.

The rest of her afternoon was spent watching, and snickering, at old reruns of the quirky show. The credits were rolling when quick raps on the door announced directed her attention to the door.

"Hey." Grissom smiled as he shut the door behind him. It was strained, but better than yesterday afternoon's.

Sara returned his smile and sat up, repeating the same actions that she has been doing for all his visits. "What do you think?"

"A room right beside the nurses' station with heavy pedestrian traffic passing the room." Grissom sat down in his spot. "I'll have to send Al's friend a fruit basket…"Sara couldn't help but laugh at his statement, causing him to give her a bewildered look. "What? People don't give fruit baskets anymore?"

"No, I just never thought I'd hear somebody do that nowadays…"

"Are you calling me old?" He pinned her against the wall with quickness quite opposite to his words.

If not for his smirk, Sara would think she really offended him. Well, two can play that game. "What happens if I am?"

"I guess I'll just have to prove you wrong," Grissom glanced at her lips before refocusing on her eyes, "Give you some evidence."

"I think that's a good idea." The words were barely out of her mouth when Grissom's lips met hers. They were quickly losing awareness of their surroundings, with Grissom's hands sneaking underneath her shirt and Sara's good hand in his hair. His hands were close to unclipping her bra when the sound of quick raps of the door caused them to freeze in their place. They pulled apart quickly as Dr. Wong walked in, seemingly oblivious to what he had nearly walked into.

"Hello Sara, oh hello ," he greeted as he clipped something to the end of her bed. "I was just bringing her papers. I forgot them in the other room you see, and when I went back to pick them up this morning I found this." He pulled out a pink rose from his pocket. "A friend of yours probably got it delivered to your old room. It's such a pretty flower I thought it'd be a shame if it didn't reach you."

Sara felt Grissom stiffen up at the news. Nobody outside the shift and related personnel to the case knew which room Sara was staying in. They both knew that if any of these people would send gifts, they would have done so long ago; such as the week after Sara was moved out of ICU- when the sheriff's office had sent a nice bouquet of giant teddy bear from the LVPD nightshift and more items.

"Oh, thank you, Dr. Wong" She took the flower from the doctor carefully, as if it was a piece of evidence.

"No problem Sara." He replied cheerfully as he turned to leave. "And remember, I don't recommend having sex until you're outta here!"

Normally the situation would be funny, but as the doctor exited, Sara felt chills run down her back from the very idea that Lurie could have brought this. Grissom's brows were pulled together again as he tried to digest what was just found. If Lurie was behind this, as he theorized, there was no doubt in his mind that the doctor would find out where Sara was; breaking protocol or not. Letting out a deep breath, he pulled out his cell and punched a speed dial number.

"Jim, find out if anyone-and I mean anyone- who knew which room Sara was in before her move, sent her a rose as a gift… Swing by and I'll tell you why…And can you call Catherine to tell her she's acting supervisor for the night, I'm nearly out of batteries…. Bye."

"Gil you don't have to call in sick for this…maybe it's just a mistake delivery?" She knew she was grasping for straws, her theory had so many holes that even she could spot, but she didn't want to further cause the shift more stress.

"N-no." Grissom squeezed her hand, "I want to be here…just in case."

* * *

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Thanks for all the reviews. They really help me as a writer in terms of improving my writing and for motivation. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter.

AN2: Special thanks to my beta GSFanatic for all her help! :)

Disclaimer: Not mine. I wish it was, but its not so... I guess I'll just have to suck it up?

* * *

His fingers flew over the keyboard the moment after it finished connecting to the server. At first, he wanted to just search her name but a fearful part of him worried about his searches being flagged. She was a high profile patient, after all. He began narrowing search parameters in hopes of indirectly finding her quicker; heart racing at the thought of possibly losing her. Filling in the last field, Lurie slammed his index finger on the enter button as if his life depended on it.

Waiting in anticipation, he swore he could feel a bead of sweat drip down his forehead as the loading bar slowly began to fill up. He just wanted one more time. Just wanted to talk to her at least; to have his questions answered. The last of the bar filled up and the computer chimed to tell him so.

_Caroline Anthony. Anastasia Bosh. Daniella Howard. Sara S-_ _RINGGGGGGGGGG_

He nearly fell off his chair. Attempting to grab the receiver, he fumbled it for a few seconds before pressing it to his ear.

"L-Lurie...alright, I'm on my way."

A car crash victim with predicted third degree burns had just arrived in the ER. With meetings and pre-ops filling up the rest of his schedule, Lurie groaned as he realized that he wouldn't be able to finish his search on the same day. Disgruntled, he slammed his office door and hurried to ER.

* * *

"Hey Mandy"

"Captain Brass…" The tech greeted, a little confused by the presence of the cop, "How...uh…can I help you?"

"Well," Brass pulled out two tape lifts from his pocket, "I know you have a lot on your hands, but I have one print and, uh, a partial here. Can you just use the computer to see if I have a match?"

She took the slips from his hands and began turning towards the scanner, but stopped halfway there. "These aren't labeled."

Brass nodded, looking around. "I'll do it after you finish with them."

"Alright…" She had too many pieces of evidence to deal with CSIs being all secretive again. "It'll just be a few seconds for a comparison."

They watched Wheel of Fortune after Brass left. It was part of their daily routine before Natalie. They would wake up and eat breakfast to the game show, often guessing the answer way before the contestants would do so. As they watched tonight, the two pretended to ignore Grissom's constant glances at the door, and Sara's constant glancing at him, as the wheel went around and around.

"Ever think of trying to get on this show?"

Grissom quickly turned his attention from the door back to the TV. "No."

"Why not? You always know the answers before the contestants anyway." She was curious to why, but her bigger goal was of course to distract him. When Gil Grissom was tense, anyone in the room could sense it; it was as if his anxiousness seeped out from every pore in his body and permeated the space nearby. At this moment, she was getting more than a strong whiff.

He shrugged a little, watching a contestant pick a letter. "I just always imagined myself on Jeopardy."

"I guess you could give Ken a run for his money." Sara smiled as he feigned that he was insulted.

"Good to know that you're one hundred percent behind me, honey." He smirked. "Oh, and it's raining cats and dogs."

She took a quick look out her window and the TV. "I assume that you're talking about the answ –"

His phone rang. Any tension that had left Grissom now returned in full strength, and she knew who was calling without looking at his phone.

"Grissom."

"I got Warrick to work on the rose and he got a partial off the plastic water thing at the end of the Rose. He also got a full print off a coffee cup I got from the garbage can after Lurie left some meeting." Brass had personally shadowed Lurie after arriving and hearing of the news. Although the cop still had his doubts, his calls to different parties who knew Sara's whereabouts had turned up empty. The veteran was warily accepting the chance that Lurie was still a person of interest.

"And." Grissom prompted, he sounded anxious-and he had every right to be.

"Mandy confirmed that they match."

The colour from Grissom's face drained. He felt his heartbeat accelerate as Sara gently took his hands and give him a reassuring squeeze. For a minute, his ears were filled with the sound of his heart; rhythmic beats with frequencies matching the drum roll before a big award was handed out.

"Gil? You ok?" Brass' asked, slightly alarmed by the silence on the other end.

Grissom resisted the urge to snap at his friend. Of course he was fine! It's just another murderer is attempting to make contact with his girlfriend who was a doppelganger for the murderer's victim. Everything was sunshine and fluffy bunnies of course! "T-thanks." He hung up barely after those words were relayed to Brass.

"Gi -"

"We have to go."

* * *

_MEMO  
RE: SERVER AFFECTED POWER OUTAGE_

_Due to the power surge caused by the blackout from severe thunderstorms before our generators powered up early this morning, the server update failed and patient files are not updated. Technicians are working as quickly as possible to resolve corrupted files in the updated server; and will inform us on the progress. In the meantime, please consult with colleagues prior to any actions which may require access to updated medical records. _

Curtis

He read the email again. It didn't matter. The hospital never moved patients around too many times in twenty four hours. Not to his knowledge at least. The crash also gave him an excuse if anyone questioned his visit.

Without thought, he pulled up the search page and hit the button after filling in her name. Having seen her name still on the previous day's roster had confirmed his guess, but the relocation still unnerved the doctor. Lurie refused to let her go without talking to her at the very least. He had all these questions that had to be answered by her. _Why haven't I seen you before? Do you know Debbie?_ Only she can answer those questions, and he didn't want the answer from some secondary source-he wanted it from her mouth.

The small smile that graced his lips would have lit up the dark office. He quickly copied down the information he needed. _Room 456-. _Lurie ground his teeth as he put the finishing touch on his post it note. She was on his floor...right in front of the nurses' station. The new location threw him for a few seconds, but the urgency of the matter (with Sara's upcoming release) and his needs easily quieted any doubts he had.

He ran his finger down on his open day planner sitting beside his laptop. His brow's furrowed as he realized that there were scheduled meetings and an operation during times where she was probably alone. Retracing his way back up the page, he stopped at a block that could work. It would be a little risky, but that was something he could afford. After all, he's been taking risks since he met her.

* * *

"Hello Vincent."

He stopped in his tracks, trying to suppress the automatic nervous shivers that ran up his spine. Clenching his teeth, his cheeks pulled back for a big smile before turning around to greet the voice.

"Hello Bertha. How are you doing today?" He had kept his calm for some days before everything began corroding, he can pull this off now; he knew it. _Just remember that saying…_

They shared a short conversation. She noticed his unease, but chalked it up to wanting to rush back to his work. She turned her back to him after releasing him from their exchange. This was his chance. He surveyed the area quickly before briskly walking towards the room and pushing the door open without knocking. Shutting the door as with the same speed but as softly as he could, he braced himself by taking a deep breath. He interpreted her lack of protest to his sudden intrusion to the fact that she must be napping again. Spinning around, he was greeted with…an immaculately cleaned room.

* * *

Blankets folded, garbage emptied, clipboard gone; all overwhelming pieces of evidence that she had left. His heart ached as he felt as if life had sucker punched him in the chest. He had lost her, again.

Bertha was filing forms and the other nurse still on the phone when he slipped out of the room. Lurie made a beeline for his office; barely suppressing his emotions into a scowl as they swirled within him. Jamming his key into the door knob with shaky hands, he pushed on the wooden plank to gain entry but was rejected. Trying a few more times, he struggled to keep his calm- to stop himself from trying to kick the door down in frustration. On the third shove, he nearly fell into his office.

"It jammed." That was the only explanation a few curious staff members got as he retreated back into his cave. He didn't bother with the lights as closed the door behind him with little finesse; barely stopping himself from slamming the object.

Sitting in his hideout, head bowed, arms hanging between his legs-he barely resembled the well spoken, respected, and confident surgeon he was outside of his space. He sat like that for a few minutes, wallowing in self pity. All those days she was right there, and he was too busy watching other people instead of focusing on her. He had wasted his time, like he did so before, and now was living his punishment-life filled with constant thoughts and questions about her.

Glancing at his empty desk, he felt a pang of jealousy of his colleagues. They had pictures of their families, smiling back at them everyday. What did he have? A flip stand featuring technical drawings of the human organs, and a calendar reminding him of how much time he's lost. There used to be a framed picture of him and Debbie, but it now laid deep in a drawer; something he didn't want his post-sabbatical mind drifting to but too important to throw away.

For a few seconds, he entertained the thought of calling his brother to help him in the matter, but quickly shot the idea down. He wouldn't be any help, being in Canada; never mind how he would have to lie about the issue to make investigating a LVPD officer sounds less…odd.

Lurie let out a deep breath as he continued his observation of his desk. He was staring at his pen holder when the phone buzzed, capturing his attention.

"_The server has now been debugged and updated properly. We thank you for your patience. Have a nice day."_

And that's when the idea dawned on him. Perhaps all hope was not lost just yet. His flipped the screen up on the machine and watched as it booted up. As he double clicked the icon, the implications of his action snuck into his mind. He could be fired. He could have to face LVPD again. He could have his license slashed. These thoughts caused his fingers to freeze as he was nearly done entering her name.

Then he realized that he didn't care. For some reason, all those things seemed trivial at that moment.

* * *

"Hank, I am not scratching you there!"

The boxer looked at her with his big brown eyes.

"No, Hank." She leaned in from her spot against the wall to scratch his stomach. "Since when did you have such odd demands anyway?"

The dog offered no response but a soft sputter, getting up only to settle again in Grissom's spot on the bed.

"What did he ask you to do?" Grissom wandered back from the bathroom and shooed the big dog off his spot; back onto the floor. It laid there doggy pouting at his two owners as he watched them with wary eyes. Any sign of face-lickage and he was leaving them kids alone.

. "He asked me to scratch the crease between his back leg and his torso." Sara laughed as they looked back at Hank's stare. "Are you sure we can't let him back on the bed?"

Grissom looked at his dog, and then his girlfriend. "You are such a weakling when he uses that trick." He was amazed at how his dog could break down the will of such a strong woman with just one look.

"Oh please, Mr. Oh-just-one-more-piece-of-broccoli, you spoil him as much as I do."

Grissom grinned. "But not as ofte-"

_RRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGG_

Sara's left arm instinctively moved to get it, forgetting that she still had a cast on it. The handset fell on to the ground as her cast slammed into the wall.

"Ow, oh wow, ow."

He was by her side in a split second. She steadied her arm with her other hand as she winced in pain. His hands covered hers as his brows furrowed. "Are you ok? Should I call ? How bad is it? Is the-"

"Grissom," She broke through his myriad of questions. "It's ok; I'll just need to make sure I don't do it again."

He looked into her eyes and nodded, seeming to have calmed down. After helping her readjust to give more support for her broken arm, he stood up and glanced at the clock. Eleven a.m. "Just stay right here. I'll make us some brunch." He took the handset and placed it on the drawer on his side before bending over to move Hank.

She watched as he pulled his slippers out from one of Hank's blankets on the floor. The dog had been banned from the bed until her arm healed. Grissom had feared that, after seeing Hank nearly fly into her arms after they returned, the dog would try to snuggle up to her in bed; after missing her so much for the past two months. "You don't have to do that. I can help."

He stopped her as her back left the wall she was leaning on. "No, stay right there. I _want _to do this for you."

She smiled at him. "Is it because you think I can't cook good pancakes?"

"No, it's because I love you."

She couldn't help but swoon as he bounced towards the kitchen.

* * *

_Patient Information_

_Patient Surname: Sidle __ Patient First Name: Sara_

_Patient Middle Name(s): Anne Gender: F_

_Birth date: September 16, 1972 Patient ID: 2007SAS1967-001_

_Height: 5' 9" Weight: 120 lbs_

_Eye Colour: Hazel Hair Colour: Brown_

_Residential address:_

_23 Chestnut Blvd, Apartment 205, Las Vegas, NV, USA_

Lurie's pen slid quickly across his notepad as he glanced to and from the computer screen. His hand soon went back to his mouse as he scrolled down the page. He had the information he wanted, but his curiosity got the better of him as he went on to read about her medical reports, insurance plans and more.

_Emergency Contact: Dr. Gilbert Grissom_

_Relationship: Shift Supervisor_

_Contact Number: (__702) 828-3426__ ext 3120_

The doctor paused at the implications of this. Did she have no family in Vegas? Meaning that she lived alone? The wheels in his head began turning, planning out his next move. He read a few more pages before coming to the end of the document.

_Premature release reason: Work related difficulties. Approved by attending physician (Dr. Timothy Wong). Phone check ups by attending nurses. _

He moved his mouse towards closing the window but stopped half way there. After hesitating for a few seconds, Lurie hit the print button.

* * *

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Not mine. If I owned CSI, I'd be quite rich and publishing this so I can get more moolah? :P

AN#1: Thanks for all the reviews. It's great for feedback in terms of how to fix the story, and it boosts morale to keep me writing :)

AN#2: Thanks to my beta GSFanatic cause I wouldn't publish this stuff without her editing

* * *

Until after his sabbatical, he had never left work on time. There was always some reason to stay late. Worried patients, surgery notes, annoying interns- you name it. The issues kept him busy, and he liked that.

After returning, things have been a little different. He started out staying late, but as he re-settled, the good doctor began leaving earlier. The hospital gossip mill fed willing ears with tales ranging from a new lady friend to a plain old change in ritual. But as quick as the rumors flowed, the stream quickly dried up as the re-emergence of the Miniature Killer stories fed fickle ears.

She didn't live on his side of town, but he didn't mind taking a detour. Stopping his car in front door the apartment, his eyes scanned the surrounding area. It was a nice neighborhood, mostly low level apartments; the type that didn't require elevators. Lurie squinted at the front door. No security guard, but a two way tenant-visitor intercom with a built in video camera was mounted on the wall.

He contemplated using the machine for a mere second before his brain ridiculed him for such a stupid idea. Questions revolving the five Ws on how he tracked her down would be too difficult to field. He strained to look around from his position in his car. The street was what you would expect in any city. A road with parking on both sides, flanked by the aforementioned apartments and a few townhouses- it was as generically designed. Parking his car in front of her apartment would be unwise; nosy neighbors were always a problem back in the days.

Glancing at the end of the street, his eyes fell on a parkette with large trees. Somebody had parked in the shade and was reading what appeared to be the Vegas tribune with the windows rolled down. Lurie pulled his car out from his current spot and drove down the street before aligning his car with the other driver's. Her front door was still in view, to his delight.

* * *

There were many things in life that she couldn't stand. Things like saliva, bees, bad service at restaurants, and one major pet peeve- noises when she was trying to read. And at that moment, the man she loved to the end of the world was doing exactly that beside her on their couch. Gil had arranged to put himself on call for a week to help her "re-adjust", much to her protests. She didn't want him re-adjusting his sleep schedule so he could be awake with her; along with knowing that she could tackle living in _their_ house on her own. While his doting for the past few days wasn't extremely suffocating like others would imagine, his worrying made her worry about him.

Sara had been staring at him over the top of her paper for a while now. He had stopped folding the paper in his hands the moment he noticed her stare, but she didn't look away. "Honey, are you ok?"

"Huh?" She visibly snapped back into their reality. "I just wanted to see what that racket was." Sara pursed her lips and smiled as her gaze fell on the open shoe box sitting on the coffee table. "How many have you made?"

"Around 500," he said as if it was no feat and resumed folding. Sara just watched as he assembled the crane (which actually looks like one now).

She was in slight disbelief that he had managed to churn out so many of them since three weeks ago, when they had discussed the idea. "Do you think they work?"

He glanced up from his work with a small smile. "I'm a scientist. I like experiments." Putting the finishing touches on the origami, he placed it into the box gently. His hand was grabbing another piece of paper when his pocket vibrated, causing him to jump off the couch in shock; much to Sara's amusement. This was soon gone as she watched Grissom's face fall as he just listened to the voice on the other end.

His brows became furrowed again, as a frown began to form on his lips. He tried interrupting the speaker on the other end, but was apparently shushed as he would stop as abruptly as he started. Eventually, he thanked the voice on the other end through gritted teeth and slammed the lid of his phone close.

Grissom didn't reply as he sat back down, letting out a deep breath on his descent. They stayed like this for a few moments, with him in his worries and Sara giving him his space. She let go of the paper she was holding on to with her good hand, and replaced it with his hand. He was a very private man, rarely converting his thoughts into words, and she respected that. She usually gave him a few minutes before prodding him with any questions. There were days where he would open up voluntarily, and other days where he would barely confirm or deny what Sara thought was the problem.

"The judge won't grant us a publication ban."

They had discussed the idea for a few days now, both on their own and with the crown prosecutors. Grissom had first brought up the idea when they were watching an episode of Mythbusters before bed.

"_Why?"_

"_W-well to protect the lab…and us." Grissom looked perplexed at her question. "If the defense attorneys hear about our…relationship, we might be looking at appeals to past convictions based on accusations that we might have manipulated the evidence to appease each other."_

"_Like the Haviland case." She shifted uncomfortably at the memory of having her personal life on trial. _

_He brought a hand to her cheek and gently put his forehead on her bandaged version. "I wanted to hurt Gerard so bad when I heard about what happened." His voice was barely above a whisper as he closed his eyes, remembering the anger he felt. "I don't know how he …sensed…that you meant more to me than I ever let anyone believe; but I meant it when I said it wasn't your fault-because it was mine."_

"_Gil." She covered his hand with hers as he opened his eyes. "The DA got the information from an old report, it was all her; Phillips had nothing to do with it. Nobody could have prevented her snooping. If anyone's to blame, it'd be the stupid uniform who didn't keep the pedestrians away enough to witness that exchange in the back alleyway of the building." This got a small smile from him before her lips met his as she reaffirmed her message. _

Although she knew that protecting their reputation was one reason for his request, Sara was sure that some part of him feared Lurie knowing more about her. She wanted to talk to him about the other reason, but the topic isn't exactly easy to bring up in conversation. "What did the judge say?"

"The judge said something about how the public's interested in the case and how if we suddenly shut them out, there will be backlash from the public; with this case including the death of Izzy Delancy and all." Grissom's head was in his hands by now as he tried to think of a way around this. "We wanted a publication ban for your part of the case, but I guess Lorna didn't get that point across to the judge well enough. I just don't see how the judge doesn't understand the effect that this case will have on the reputation of the Las Vegas Forensics Lab."

With her good arm, Sara folded up the paper she was holding before shuffling closer to Grissom; taking his hand again. "Gil, we know that our relationship hasn't jeopardized any of the cases. If they re-test any of the evidence, they'll find we didn't do anything wrong." She stopped to gauge his reaction, or lack there of. "They won't be able to harass anyone about it after I go back anyway, since Ecklie's most probably going to request I change shifts in the meeting I have with him next week."

Grissom didn't reply as he continued staring at the ground.

"Unless there's more to why you want this publication ban…"

That got his attention as he quickly looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I don't know, his name starts with an L and rhymes with Furry?" Her attempt to lighten up his mood didn't do much good. "Gil, he doesn't know where I live, or my usual eateries, or anything about me. He isn't Natalie. I know that you think you know him better than anyone else, but I just don't see the evidence that he's a threat once I'm outside of Desert Palm."

"You weren't there." His muscles were tense, right down to his hand "I saw it in his eyes as he said those last words. Lurie is guilty of the murders, and to be so outwardly composed days just after those acts showed how dangerous he is."

Sara could feel his pulse increasing, closer and closer to his 'angry' range; even with his calm demeanor. "Gil, I was there. I might not have been in the same room, but I saw and heard the same things you did."

"Then you should see where I'm coming from." He pulled his hand out of her grasp as he leaned back on the couch to massage his head. "Lurie's not going to stop. He won't stop until he gets…closure."

"And since when did you become a profiler instead of a scientist."

"Murderers don't like it when doppelgangers of dead victims, never mind a dead ex, walks back into their lives." He glanced at her. "Double murder of separated twin sisters, Jill Case and Amanda Sinclair. Jill's ex killed Amanda thinking she was Jill, then went to Jill's house to look for files proving he faked an award winning picture, Jill walks in, and the ex kills her too." He gritted his teeth as his efforts to ward off his migraine were futile. "The evidence is right there."

Sara left without a word. Grissom thought that she was just walking away, unable to stand the truth behind his logic; until she returned and sat down right beside him. Wordlessly, she stuffed a few pills into his right hand and a cup of water into his other. Muttering quiet thanks, Grissom downed the medication without hesitation.

"You think you're like him." It was time to call him on his bluff.

"I never said that."

"But you did four years ago."

He didn't reply, but stared at the ceiling.

"_Guys like us…Cauple of middle-aged men who've allowed their work to consume their lives."_ She stared right at him as she softly quoted his words to the best she could.

Still no reply.

"…_We wake up one day and realize that for fifty years we haven't really lived at all. Th-"_

"You weren't supposed to hear that." He grounded out, annunciating each word.

"But I did, and I know this: you two are not alike, at all."

Grissom looked at her after her last words. His gaze was intense; as if he was trying to burn holes into her memory. "I could imagine you in Debbie's spot…and me standing in Lurie's." He let his message sink in. "Doesn't that scare you, Sara? That I understand his reasoning? Why he did what he did, and how he could justify it in his head?"

"No," She stared back with equal intensity "Because I know you're not him. You couldn't even take the first step he took until two years ago. Never mind that I'm not remotely like Debbie Marlin, our scenarios are different." He looked away from her. "You may think you understand his motivations in the past, but that doesn't mean you can predict his next move."

"But I know how he felt, and how he might approach the problem if it ever fell on him." His voice was flat, without emotion; as if he was set in stone about his idea. "He's still out there looking; scanning every paper for any information he can get. He won't let himself let go, just like he couldn't let go of Debbie; and why he kept coming back to find you at Desert Palm."

Gil's stubbornness was something she had gotten used to over the past years of dating and working together but he was beginning to frustrate her to no end. His paranoia about Lurie was grounded in mostly circumstantial evidence, and although she knew he was ninety-nine percent right about Lurie being the murderer, she couldn't bring herself to believe Grissom's theories about their current problem. Not because they weren't logical, but because she didn't want Grissom to worry like he did now. He sounded so sure that he was right. "Tell me when you stop predicting the future." She walked off with Hank in tow.

* * *

"Hello Gil, how's Sara?"

"She's doing fine, Jeff. She came home a few days ago so she could work with the prosecutors more instead of getting them to go to the hospital every time they wanted to work with her."

"Oh, good." An awkward silence ensued. "Now I know you're not calling me just to chit-chat. So, how can I help you?"

"I need a favor, Jeff."

"Which is…"

"I need you to pull some strings for a media-publication ban on Sara's part of the Natalie Davis case." After a beat, he continued, "It's for the good of the lab, and my reputation."

"I hear a Judge already rejected a general ban, Gil, I'm not sure I can overturn that."

"The last ban the prosecution asked for was not a specific ban, which is why it got rejected. There are new terms to this ban, which is in favor of protecting the lab and my reputation. My reputation is directly connected to the lab's success in recruiting, and you know it Jeff; you don't put my name on the brochures for nothing. "

"It's going to be tough…"

"If you get this done, I'll count that you've repaid the favor that I did by refuting the testimony and therefore saving your friendship on the Breckman case."

Who said Grissom sucks at politics?

* * *

He glanced at the clock again. When Sara left, he had assumed that she went back to their room to watch TV or read a book on their bed. But a visit to their bedroom, under the guise of needing to find McKeen's business card, had left him empty handed. It was near dinner time, and they usually would have found each other to figure out the contents of their meal by now.

Thus, began his search for her. The study, kitchen, laundry room, bathroom; she wasn't there. Grissom was beginning worry when he heard the screen door slide open and shut. Padding his way towards the kitchen, he watched her pick something out of the fridge with Hank beside her; or at least until the animal picked up on his shuffling.

The boxer trotted over and sat in front of Grissom with an unreadable expression on his face. "Hey bud", Grissom leaned over to scratch Hank behind his ears before moving towards the subject of his search.

"How about lasagna?" She was avoiding his gaze by looking for the expiration date on a block of cheese in her hand. "The cheese's going to expire in a few days if we don't use it all."

He pulled open the pasta cabinet on his way towards her and pulled out the food in question. "We'll have to restock on our next run to Whole Foods." Leaning against the freezer compartment of the fridge, he watched her as she searched through the fridge. "Sar-"

"Here, hold this." She interrupted him and handed him his meat sauce. "Don't we have cucumbers?"

"Back of the crisper." Grissom placed their supplies on the counter across from them before returning to his position. He watched as she retrieved the last items from the crisper and closed the door.

"You boil, I cut?" Sara knew that he was watching her intently as he followed her suggestion. Their conversation didn't end on the right note; they both knew it. She didn't leave him by himself because she disagreed with him, but more because of how deaf he was to her ideas. Holding down the vegetable with her cast (one good thing about such a device was that it's heavy), she began chopping away.

They worked in near silence, with Grissom glancing over his shoulder at Sara's back every few minutes as he waited for the water to boil. He knew he shouldn't have been so obstinate with her earlier, that he should have tried to soften his tone; but the fact remained that he knew the doctor wouldn't give up that easily. For the whole interview, the doctor had come off arrogant – until the last moment. The waver in his voice was evidence to how Grissom's words hit home; and how the scientist's understanding of his situation had punched through his façade. Lurie had fled so quickly because Grissom had reminded Lurie of how broken he was on the inside; with his lover truly out of reach.

The sound of the bubbling water reminded him of his task. Placing the dried goods into the pot, he closed the lid and set the timer. He placed the object right in front of her cutting board, putting himself in close proximity with her. "Sara," He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. "Y-you know that I love you."

She was struggling to focus on cutting the cucumbers with his breath on her neck. "I never doubted that."

"You also know I'm just not very good with the whole …personal conversation deal."

Sara chuckled at that statement. "At least not with me." She felt Grissom stiffen at her words, remembering the last time she made a comment like that.

"_Sara where are you?" Grissom asked tiredly. He had returned home to find his house missing two valuable beings: his girlfriend and his dog. A gut feeling told him that he already knew the answers to all the questions he had, but he stubbornly wanted to confirm his ideas. _

"_I'm at home?" She asked innocently, or so she sounded._

"_What do you mean?" Yup, confirmed alright. "I-I thought you were going to let your neighbour's aunt live there temporarily."_

"_She's not coming until next month." There was a pause. "By the way, I took Hank with me. The sitter's out of town on an emergency and I couldn't fathom the idea of leaving him alone in the house."_

_Grissom groaned inwardly as he sat down on the couch. "Sara, look, I know I should have called or let you know somehow. J-just come back and we'll talk it out or something."_

"_Or something…" She chuckled, but she didn't sound amused. "I guess talking it out is just something you're not very good at unless the other person is Heather Kessler."_

"_Sara." He sounded exasperated. "I've already told you that nothing ever happened between us. You can't be saying you believe whatever Hodges and those lab rats are saying over my word."_

"_How bout Catherine then? No? How about Nick, or your protégé Warrick? I guess they aren't good people to listen to either; you know- people who you've worked with in all the Heather cases." Loud barking ensued on her side of the phone. "Hank, it's ok, it's just a car alarm." There were some shuffling noises on her end along with the doorbell. "Look, I gotta go. Goodnight Grissom." _

"_Sara? Sara!" _

_Dial tone. _

That night, or rather day, didn't end there but that patch in history was what her words first triggered. "I thought we were over that." He mumbled into her shoulder.

"Oh, we are." She moved out of his embrace to dump the chopped vegetable into a bowl to be mixed. Her tone was light, which suggested that she wasn't angry; much to Grissom's relief. "It's just we're still not very good with the conversation thing…"

Grissom exhaled the breath he didn't know he was holding and waited for her to return to the island. He caught her on her return path and pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to sound so … final."

She rubbed his back absentmindedly with her good hand. "When I see you worry, I worry about you, you know?" Pulling away from his chest, she looked into his baby blues. "I know you think you understand him, but your …speculation…is still just that."

Grissom closed his eyes and nodded slightly before opening them again. "You know, we could be eating by now if you didn't run off." The small smile on his lips lightened the blow of his words.

"Yeah, well I never said I was perfect at this whole talking thing either." She returned the smile before he gave her a quick peck on her lips. He was about to give her another when a loud clang got their attention.

Hank sat at the door way with his upturned food bowl; looking unimpressed by the kids. They always pick the worse times for licking faces.

* * *

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**_

* * *

_**

A.N:

At 9 chapters, I realized that I should probably do some direct replies to some reviews :).

**Moochiecat:** Thanks for the note about how Nevada uses the District Prosecutor etc system. I'm from Canada (might have noted from some of the spelling, eh?) and have been to schools in a British colony before, so the whole "Crown Prosecutor" is probably from there.

**BernieJ**: Thanks for your reviews. In terms of Hank protecting Sara if all else fails…well…you'll see how that turns out ;).

**MyKate**: You like angst eh? I hope you'll enjoy the upcoming chapters.

**Rassie**: I too wish Lurie would reappear on CSI. Don't think Kyle Secor has too much on his plate at the moment anyway…

**Sixtyplus**: I always got the feeling that Sara and Grissom own the loft they have together; and that Sara kept her apartment to through HR off their case (at least for season 7).

Didn't have time to reply to everyone, but I just want to thank everyone for reviewing. I really hate reading my own work after it's been edited, but I took a glance recently and thought I'm an absolutely horrible writer. Thanks for sticking with me, and special thanks to my beta GSFanatic for helping me with these chapters.

By the way, I have no idea what Natalie Davis' lawyer's name was.

**Disclaimer**: Don't own a thing. Nothing, nadda, nothing. Well...in terms of the characters, trademarks etc at least.

* * *

"Undersherriff McKeen, can you explain why this ban has been put in place?"

"Undersherriff, is it true that this ban was first proposed by the prosecution?"

"Sir, what reason did you give the judge to –"

"What don't you want the people of Vegas to hear- "

McKeen grimaced at the onslaught of camera flashes and dark figures continue to bombard him with questions from all around. He groaned at the media pack that now surrounded him as all he wanted to do was to get home after a hard Monday. "Ladies and Gentleman, all those answers are answered in the press release LVPD released earlier. I can make no further comment."

"But why only a ban on criminalist Sidle's case?" A lone voice stuck out amongst the mass.

"As stated in the press release," McKeen started as he pushed through the crowd with the help of some officers, "a ban on that part of the case…" he roughly yanked open the door to his car, "… protects classified information of all parties involved. Now if you may excuse me, I have a personal matter to attend to."

* * *

The lack of electronic buzz reminded him of how empty his house was. He continued to stare at the black screen as the words he just heard replayed in his head.

"_The court documents show that both the prosecution and defendants agree to the proposed media ban; citing reasons of protecting all parties involved due to the nature of some information which may be revealed during the trial. Reporting from outside the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police headquarters for KLAS, I'm Paula Francis."_

The reason for the approval was what he really cared about. Knowing that he was so close to learning obviously important information about her, yet being held miles away annoyed him to no end. He looked around the room from his position on the couch for some type of clue for his next step. The room was what you would imagine for a bachelor of his age; with a plasma TV, filled bookshelves, utility couch and framed landscape photography.

His gaze continued roaming before falling on his desk and he remembered Grissom's words. There was something in the other man's voice that made his words so much harder to swallow. The criminalist sounded, and even looked, like he had experienced Lurie's pain; the only difference was that Grissom couldn't even take the first step. In a sense, Lurie pitied the other man, as he probably would never experience the happiness he felt in the good days with Debbie. _Her._ Lurie let out a deep, shaky breath as his thoughts came back to his problem. He had to find Sara; his questions must be answered.

He moved quickly to his desk and cracked open his laptop before finding himself lost once again. The internet was his best, if not only, option; but aside from Google, the web was more like a maze to him. There was somebody that he could ask for help from, but he was hesitant to let anyone know about his…research. Too many questions asked.

He resigned himself to more days at the park, even if there were no signs of her for the past week.

* * *

Working the night shift gave him the benefit of hearing who was approaching his office, as colleagues from other shifts were almost never around; leaving the halls deserted. Something Grissom really noticed after his surgery was that all the CSIs walked in a different way. Catherine's sound was the clicking of her high heels (ones that he hoped she changed into after being at the crime scene for safety reasons). Nick's was the low pitched squeaking of running shoes. Warrick usually arrived with smacks against the ground from fancy dress shoes. Greg shuffled at all times, probably because he would always be moderately afraid of approaching his door. Brass appeared with a more frequent dress shoe smack, compared to Warrick. Al had a tell-tale rubber thud along with his steps. And Sara…she was just unique. Her dress shoe smack would be softer than the men's but her pace varied as she would either be bursting into his office with a lead or just strolling in for a more personal reason.

The sound he heard approaching his office at the moment was unfamiliar. It didn't even sound like Ecklie, who he had the pleasure of dealing with last week. Grissom didn't bother looking up from a case report he was analyzing; it was probably a lab rat-at worse, Hodges.

"Well Grissom, I hope you're happy."

His head shot up at the voice. "Undersheriff McKeen." He acknowledged calmly, "I would think such an important figure like you would be in bed by this ungodly hour."

"It's only midnight Gil" He entered and sat down without an invitation. "And I've been grilled by not only the Sheriff but the Mayor in separate meetings about the publication ban since its announcement before the 6 o'clock news."

"And?"

McKeen stared down Grissom's poker face. "I presented them the case and reasons. They agreed to back the ban." A beat. "You owe me, big time, Grissom."

"No, I think we're even."

* * *

"Thank you, Mark. I'm standing outside the courthouse this afternoon anxiously waiting like the rest of the citizens of Las Vegas. It is expected that the preliminary hearing of this high profile case will only take one day before the judge finalizes the sentence that Natalie Davis, also known as the Miniature Killer, will be standing trial for; along with the dates of the actual trial. We don't know when the release of this information will come, but our legal analysts say it should be within the hour as court hours wind down."

"Right. I've also been told that Grissom, lead Criminalist, Captain James Brass, lead Detective and Sidle were spotted entering the courthouse earlier today. Can you confirm that?"

"Yes Mark, I can confirm that. I was speaking with one of the office workers across the court house who reported seeing them enter while he was out on a smoke break. Now in related news, we have also heard that the publication ban is only active inside the courthouse; meaning that any information they voluntarily release on criminalist Sidle's part of the case outside can be printed and/or relayed to viewers. This move is…"

He turned the radio down a notch as he looked up her apartment. His mouth was beginning to dry up even after that drink from the anticipation of her arrival. She would have to return back to her place after the court date, wouldn't she? Where else would she go? Lurie had rationalized her disappearance to the fact she just doesn't go out during the hours he was there. And she must have hired somebody to get her groceries and shopping done because of her injury. It all made sense.

Taking a swig from his water bottle, he turned back to the medical magazine he was reading but his mind was with her; as usual. The time he spent pretending to read or napping was usually spent on mapping out their conversation. He would introduce himself and say that he was still interested in her; well, her wounds at least. She would be hesitant at first, but eventually warm up and let him into her place to talk about her wounds. Then after a while, when she's more acquainted with him, he'll ask her all those questions he's saved up. And, who knows, maybe they'll hit it off and she'll enjoy his presence and likewise, so he'll get to –

The music of the breaking news signal interrupted his train of thoughts as his hand flew to turn up the radio.

"Tom Jameson reporting on behalf of 590News here," a voice yelled loudly over what sounded like a mishmash of shuffling, footsteps and other voices, "Natalie Davis' lawyer has just emerged from the front doors and looks as if he is not, I repeat, is not going to make a statement." More shuffling and footsteps filled the air as Lurie assumed the reporter was trying to get closer to the person of interest. "Mr. Farlock, will Natalie Davis be standing trial or have both sides come to an agreement?"

No answer as the sound of reporting chaos filled the airwaves.

"Can you tell us anything about this case? How is the Miniature Killer? Is she fit to stand trial?" The reporter tried again, sounding as if he was being jostled around in a mosh pit.

He received no reply again. It was a few more shaky moments before a stern male voice could be heard addressing the crowd. "Ladies and gentleman, I will not reveal any information about today's decision. An official press release is being sent out as we speak, I recommend you check with your supervisors."

A car door slammed as the murmurs and the sound of cell phones being punched filled the airwaves before the reporter returned. "There you have it folks, we are still waiting for the prosecution to come out-but in the mean time, I will hand it back to Mark. You there?"

"Yes Tom, I am, and we have not received the official word; although I suspect it will be coming in minutes. At this time, I would like to invite you to leave a message…"

Lurie tuned out again, prepping for the big moment ahead of him. He had found out about the pretrial and just assumed she was going. Hearing that theory being confirmed had boosted his confidence in his other hypothesis. His sweaty palms left the steering wheel to roll down the windows as the official statement was read. To him, the news meant one thing; Sara was coming home.

* * *

The hum of reporters' voices could be heard inside the doors of the courthouse. It could be considered nerve wracking as the people exiting would be subject to be at the center of a flash mob of story hungry reporters and journalists; each vying for something to make their own piece of work stand out.

The air was tense as four figures huddled in a small circle. The task at hand was difficult but they knew it had to be done.

"I don't know why they won't let us use the back door." The attorney grumbled before taking a deep breath. "We'll have uniforms around us, but you know how they get."

Brass flashed a wry grin as he looked through the frosted glass at the shadows and blurs of the pack. "Well, if they get past the uniforms just shove them… gently."

Grissom placed a comforting hand on Sara lower back as he turned away from Brass' discussion with their lawyer. He nodded his head towards the big doors and murmured softly, "You ready to go out there?"

"I was born ready."

He couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm sure you-"

"Excuse me Captain Brass," The bailiff's baritone voice interrupted the nervous chatter. "The officers are ready."

They looked at each other before following the man towards the big double doors. Grissom's hand left Sara's back to give her hand a quick squeeze. Their gazes met at that moment; reassuring each other before he let go as the oak doors creaked open to the camera flashes and the setting sun reflecting off their lenses.

* * *

"Tom Jameson here, reporting for 590News again. The prosecution has just left the building, surrounded by heavy police presence just as the defendant's attorney did." Footsteps could be heard along with the sound of the microphone being jostled around "To say that my fellow reporters are enthusiastic," the shouting around the reporter got louder, "would be an understatement." The shouting elevated as the microphone was tussled around even more. "The prosecution, with lawyer Lorna Matthews and witnesses Grissom, Det. James Brass and of course, Sidle, is around twenty feet from my position and I'm sure you could hear the chaos that is erupting around me. - "

"- STAY BACK PLEASE."

"-SIR IF YOU PUSH ME AGAIN, I WILL PRESS CHARGES."

"And those voices you heard were just of the officers warning some of my colleagues to back off. As I said, it is really getting chaotic here , HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THE JUDGES DECISION TO LET NATALIE DAVIS STAND TRIAL? DR. GRISSOM! !" The reporter received no audible reply, but more shouts from the other reporters' barrage of questions. "It seems like their attorney has advised them not to answer any questions, as per usual proto- and somebody just got pass the officers! This doesn't look good!"

* * *

Their trek to the car was relatively free of annoyance for now. Well, that is, if you don't count the constant flashing from camera bulbs, a few microphones shoved dangerously close to your face, amazingly loud crowd amongst other things. Grissom hated high profile cases for precisely those reasons, and more, but at that moment- he only cared about one thing; getting Sara safely to the car before the jostling crowd does something stupid.

He glanced through the flashes and heads to see that they were nearly at his goal. Just a few more seconds and-

"HEY!"

Grissom watched helplessly as a blur cross his path and shove a microphone dangerously close to hitting Sara.

"DO YOU FEEL THA-"

The blur never finished as Brass and his men quickly handcuffed and roughly escorted him into the mob.

Grissom pushed roughly pass one of officers and was by Sara's side in mere seconds. "Are you ok?" He placed his hand on her back instinctively as they moved quicker towards the car.

"I'm fine." She smiled through clenched teeth as Grissom glanced down and saw that she was cradling her cast with her other arm. He felt his pulse quicken as he glared at the surrounding chaos. Damn bastard.

Pulling her closer to him, he acted like a human shield against further oscillations towards her injured arm. "We're almost there, honey-" His words were interrupted by a wheeze as he felt an officer's back colliding with his.

Sara quickly turned to him to witness the momentary discomfort written on his face and placed a hand on his chest worriedly. Grissom covered it, reassuring her without words as they struggled to scramble out of the mess.

* * *

He stayed until the lights began turning on, both on the streets and behind curtains. Grinding his teeth, he dangerously pulled out of his spot and rode off into the night. Why didn't she go home? Her apartment had no underground parking, just an uncovered lot, so he would have seen if anyone had dropped her off. It. Didn't. Make. Sense. Unwilling to believe that he had missed her, Lurie circled her block in desperation. Was there a back door or alley that she easily left and entered by to avoid attention? Perhaps there was underground parking that he didn't spot the first time around?

A loud honk reminded him of where he was and caused him to flip the other driver off. He was doing important business, and he didn't appreciate interruptions.

After several more circles, and no new evidence, he angrily called it a day and headed home; angering and communicating with several other motorists along the way. He stopped by a small Thai restaurant, and hit up a liquor store, along the way before collapsing onto his stiff couch near eleven O'clock.

Without hesitation, he ripped the tab off a can and downed half of it in one go. Lurie never considered alcohol as an escape before, but as of the moment- being tipsy and lightheaded was a better choice in comparison to miserable and frustrated. He pawed blindly for the remote control with one hand; it was too quiet for his liking, as he attempted to finish the can with the other.

His other hand found the object as he finished the beverage and roughly tossed it onto his coffee table. Punching the big red button, the machine turned on while the doctor snapped open another can. Some show about some police officer in New York was finishing up but he paid no interest in it as he continued demolishing his six pack.

He was far into his third beer when the eleven O'clock news came on. Beer tasted better and better by the sip as the TV seemed to sway to music that only it can hear. Lurie laughed at the sight before tipping his head back and finishing his can. With his eyes closed and head abuzz, he enjoyed the feeling of destroying the aluminum can with his bare hands.

"Now onto Local news…"

The anchor's voice was faded and far away. Somewhere deep inside of his brain, he knew that he should have turned it off right then and there. A high profile case like hers wouldn't be ignored; it was too juicy and mysterious for the public to ignore. Yet, his body made no move to turn the box off; but instead reached for another beer as her picture appeared on screen.

"Ain't she purddddyyy" He drunkenly drawled to his empty house before taking a chug. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he refocused back on the dancing TV and the anchor's soft words.

"_...Both the defense and prosecution gave no comments about the aforementioned sentences that Natalie Davis will be facing. Both cited…"_

He tuned out again as his eyes lazily followed the moving images on the screen. His attention snapped back on to her figure as the prosecution plowed through the crowd like an icebreaker. Lurie was content watching her passage through the sea of reporters as he continued his binge. He wanted to ask her so many things; tell her so much…but he couldn't find her.

Feeling the self pity and hatred creep back, he swung his head back and was about to take a big drink when her sudden movement caught this attention.

"…the reporter from the website Las Vegas Crime was charged with assault against an officer."

He squinted at the TV before rubbing his eyes. Was he so drunk that he's begun hallucinating? The camera was being jostled by the crowd, the image blurry at best…but does he have an arm around her and a hand cradling her cast? Were these the actions of a supervisor doing _just_ his duties? Were these actions of _just_ a supervisor?

Lurie frowned as his brain began digging up old memories; his words, the past month, her smile. The alcohol haze couldn't stop one question from reverberating: Was she his Debbie?

* * *

TBC

AN2: I don't live in Vegas, only been there once, so any TV/radio stations mentioned are most probably fake. :) You know, unless I took the time to google...which I rarely do.


	10. Chapter 10

**A.N:** Thanks for the reviews for last chapter. Really great feedback system to see how I need to improve. And a big thanks to my beta GSFanatic for her help as usual.

Disclaimer: If CSI was mine.... I would probably have enough money to buy the Toronto Blue Jays, and give them a payroll that will actually help them compete. Well, I actually don't know how much CBS or Alliance Atlantis makes a year based on this franchise, so the aforementioned idea is based on pure speculation. Heh.

* * *

"I know you doctors don't believe us old folks when we say this, but chicken broth helps…"

"I'll give it a try, Bertha." Faking a terrible cold wasn't too difficult with his head throbbing dully and gag reflex on hyper drive.

The older woman tutted on the other end of the phone. "You better! If you still sound this sick tomorrow, I'll find out where you live and drop some off!"

Their conversation ended shortly after, leaving Lurie questioning his next move. He eventually chose just to stay as he was for the past hour; in his bed in a minimalist styled room cloaked in darkness-protected from daylight by blinds acting as guards to his unkempt kingdom.

He had gone to bed after finishing his six pack, pulled out his "emergency" whiskey, and "back up" vodka. As a medical professional, he knew it was a horrible risk he took; yet drowning in his vomit sounded better to him than facing those questions. Oh, those questions. He willed himself to think about anything else at that moment; to remember his motto, how sick he felt or even his work. Alas, the past twenty four hours somehow wormed its way back into his memory.

Even in his tipsy state, the images of the doctor with her were burned into his brain. The way he held her, the way she automatically leaned into him; oh it was too much. Lurie's eyebrows drew together again as this head throbbed even more. Why didn't the doctor mention that his …lover… looked so familiar to Debbie? Who was this Sara? Is there a tangible connection between the two women?

He ran his hands through his hair. The alcohol had gripped him; it had given him a killer headache but forgotten to prevent him from remembering the events of last night. A dry heave reduced him to a further mess as he rolled onto his side and into a ball. He was nearly recovered from that event when he opened his eyes to see his pale demeanor staring back at him.

The look scared him for a few seconds; the rings under his eyes, skin color and messy hair was something he was unaccompanied to. Usually, the image staring back at him from the tall stand alone mirror was much more appealing. Well, at least that was the image when she was still with him. His preparation for their first date was the first time he had really looked at himself in the mirror for that long. Lurie felt his heart clench as he thought about their first date.

Questioning what she saw in him, Vincent Marcelle Lurie, was always part of his pre-date ritual. He was much older than her, not as physically appealing as her younger suitors and definitely not as suave; but she wanted him. Seeing himself, now, with his wrinkles accentuated and unappealing skin tone was just too much. Did she leave him because she saw past his pampered self to see this? Was she the type who cared?

"No." He mumbled to the air as he rolled onto his other side, away from the mirror. _Just remember the good times…_The phrase was repeated for a few more times as he dug up the fun they had together. Her smile, her laughter…all those things he loved about her, he dug back up.

It was after an hour of calming down and slowly recovering from his over drinking when he glanced the mirror again. He had returned to his normal flesh tone but was still rather disheveled. Desperate to take his attention off himself, he flipped on the TV in his room to find the 24 hours Las Vegas news channel showing their clip of yesterday's court house drama.

Now that he wasn't watching the clip on a dancing TV, he was able to concentrate on her more intently. She wasn't smiling or laughing but seeing her in flesh made him happier in a sense. As he watched the doctor's action's again, he found himself questioning the article he read about biological coding factors again. If two women had the same features, would they like the same type of aesthetics or designs? So if Debbie liked what she saw of him would…

"T-that's stupid." He was talking to air again, and he knew it, but he knew his idea was stretching the theory. He knew relationships aren't purely based on physical aspects, yet he found himself making comparisons to the other doctor as he stared aimlessly at the TV.

Grissly, or whatever his name, was around the same age (if not older) than he is. The other man was definitely not as tall. There was also some differences in the shape of their bodies, but they were both men who relied on their heads. Grissly used his to solve crimes, and he used his to heal.

The fact that she picked Grissly instead of younger, taller, possibly more attractive suitors shows that she didn't care about the physical. Much like why Debbie picked him. So if the two women were physically, and in a sense mentally alike…

RINNNNNGGGG

Lurie jumped a little as he dug through his covers to find the handset. Finding the handset on its third ring, he answered it; but not before pondering in amazement about how the two women were so alike.

* * *

The rooms stayed protected from the sunshine. A glow existed around all the windows, but that was all he allowed of their trespassing. The clock's hands seemed to move at a snail's pace as its tick echoed off his largely empty walls. He had gone back to bed after the second call, which turned out to be an overzealous telemarketer, and stayed there until his body forced him out of the mess.

Now, after a light lunch and a quick glance at the news to make sure nothing big happened, he sat in his armchair with a medical journal opened but mind far away. He wasn't sure if he should return to his position at the park today. The past week had been fruitless; with no sign of her even returning to that address. His fingers rubbed the page corner of the article he opened up as the images from last night's video replayed in his head.

The paperwork said their relationship was mere employer-employee, but his actions last night easily overrode the document's words. There was something more there, and the doctor was sure. As Grissom, a name he now was beginning to remember, said –the two men share similar perspectives on the topic of relationships. Grissom had used this insight during their first encounter, and now it was Lurie's turn.

His brows drew together as a theory began congealing from all the bits of information he had. Could she be staying with him, at least for the time being as she recovers? She has no other friends or family she held higher than him according to the documents- so would she had to be at Grissom's place if she wasn't at home, right? Does this mean that he would have to wait even longer to contact her? He couldn't show up on his street, Grissom would for sure recognize him. The criminalist didn't seem like the type to forget his suspects quickly.

Lurie slammed the journal closed as he realized all the new problems that arise from the possible living arrangement. He wanted to see her so badly, but his fear of facing questions that even he was not sure he had the answer to, acted as a counterweight. His fingers were now tapping a speedy rhythm on his armrest as his brain weighed out his options. There were limited options, but all ideas required one thing…Grissom's address.

* * *

"I'm not sure how I can help you on this."

"I just need his address…y-you can get that for me, right?"

"Well yes, I could but it might take a little longer; being in Canada and all while you want me to search up an American.-"

"That's fine; just call me back when you get it." Lurie interrupted.

His brother let out a deep breath on the other end. "I still think you should take this to the authorities. If he owes you money, it won't do any good going over to scare him-trust me, I've dealt with too many cases back in days like this."

"He's part of LVPD." Lurie blurted out quickly, before quickly adding "I'm sure he has connections that would help him win the case."

Another deep breath. "Look, I'll get you the address but I'm also going to hook you up with a friend of mine in Boulder City ok? He's also a for-hire down there. He'll know how to handle that guy"

* * *

"So when do you start again?"

"Next week. Ecklie says he doesn't want me back prematurely."

Grissom scoffed. "That's awfully nice of him. He's probably doing it to save himself from paying you more injury leave." He continued whipping the batter as Sara watched on from the opposite side of the island.

She couldn't help but smirk at his jab at the other man. "You know," She leaned closer to watch his work, "he's been a lot nicer to me lately. Maybe you should try to play nicer instead of purposely pissing him off."

"I don't know what you're talking about." His eyes flicked up from to her and back to his bowl.

"I never knew that you regularly turn off your cell phone when working cases."

"The phone was on vibrate and I left it in my jacket pocket while I was at the Go-Kart place."

"For the whole afternoon?"

"There were a lot of carts I had to inspect." He smirked at her before pouring the batter into the pan. "You think Hank would like this?"

"Stop changing the topic." She couldn't help but smile as she watched him dip his finger into the batter and let their dog taste what was going to be his birthday cake. "Well, the site I got the recipe from said that their dog loved it; and as of now, it looks like Hank's a fan too."

The big dog had quickly finished off the batter and now had a paw on Grissom's leg as he tried to raise himself to the level of the island. Grissom quickly shooed the boxer's head away from the pan, "It'll taste even better when it's not liquid, bud." The animal gave him an annoyed look before giving Sara a sad face. She patted him on the head; but it wasn't what he was looking for so he ended trotting off to his corner to sulk.

Grissom ignored Hank's glare as he placed the cake in the oven and set the timer. He turned around to start cleaning up, only to find that Sara had already taken away the used utensils.

Ever since she had left the hospital, she had been working more and more with her good arm in preparation to go back to work. She had even asked for, and received much to Grissom's silent worrying, a back-to-work approval from Dr. Wong the day after her premature release.

Grissom remained silent as he watched her put so much effort into cleaning a simple bowl. She could be doing that with two hands if it wasn't for him. If only he was able to connect the dots quicker and nab Natalie before all this happened.

"One way, or another, I'm gonna find ya…"

Her voice reminded him of what he wasn't doing. He moved quietly to the sink. "Let me take care of that."

"Hey, I need the practice." She playfully batted his hands away with the scrub before she continued her work.

"In scrubbing evidence clean?" Grissom grinned as she couldn't hold back a smile at his lame joke. His second attempt at commandeering the dirty dishes from her was received with another whack from the scrub.

Her gaze met his as she tossed the spatula on to the drying rack. "You know what I mean."

The grin on his face slipped a bit. Although her words bore no ulterior motive or blame, it reminded him of why she needed to 'practice' to begin with. He gently stroked her cheek before kissing her tenderly. Her good arm wrapped around his neck as she deepened the kiss and he ignored the feeling of something running down his back. Something really cold.

"Did you just drip soap down my back?" He murmured with half drooped lids after they came up for air. The blush on her face answered his question. They stayed like that for a few more seconds before the sound of water dripping reminded them of their task. "Just…let me help you ok?"

She pursed her lips and feigned annoyance before tossing him the drying towel and returning to her task. He took the rag as they began discussing their plans for the next week; and Grissom felt that things were going back to the way they should be.

* * *

The next few hours crawled by in the same style as the first half of his day. By the time his brother called, Lurie was still in the dark about what his next step should be. All he knew was that he wanted to swing by today; just to get a taste of what he was up against.

"I couldn't get my hands on Jack," his brother said, "but here's the guy's address." He quickly gave him the information and their short conversation was about to come to an end when he added. "Just…be careful alright?"

"I will." He hung up the phone and stared at his scribbles on the piece of paper. Let's see what's out there.

* * *

He checked the slip of paper again. This wasn't what he had expected. Circling the block one more time, he took a good look as he quietly cruised around. It was late noon; his usual time for enjoying a journal under a shade, and this neighbourhood was similar in comparison to his usual hang out- quiet and lonely.

The neighborhood was relatively new. "Key card elevator access to your own floor!" a slightly sun bleached billboard boasted to anyone who cared. The planners had renovated old warehouses into posh loft complexes with green space between each of them.

Keeping an eye on the complex of interest, he slipped his car into a shadow of the neighboring complex and put it into park. Like Sara's apartment, the complex seemed to house no security guard but included security cameras pointing at the door. He realized that this, combined with the key card access only elevator, meant there was no way he would be able to reach her without leaving a track for Grissom to see. And if Grissom saw him, he would for sure stop Lurie from getting near her.

Gritting his teeth, he gripped his steering wheel with white knuckles as he tried to figure a way around his problem. Although he wasn't sure that she lived with him, something in him told him that his theories were most probably correct. He felt the vein on his forehead pulse at the same beat that the gears in his head were working to as he sat there.

Emails and letters were too easy to track; that's what he learned from all those Forensics shows-dramas or reality based. Her workplace was an option, but walking into the crime lab didn't seem like a good idea even if they didn't have a camera. He would try Desert Palms but she wasn't coming back for check ups; and she didn't get sent to pick up a lot of evidence there even before the whole ordeal.

A deep breath escaped him as the gears creeped to their final position. Aside from sitting in this spot on a daily basis- which had its problem since this street wasn't as busy as the other street- he was all out of ideas.

* * *

"You're so fat."

He stared back at her with a blank stare.

"Yes, you are sooooo fat."

Another stare.

"Are you calling Hank fat again?" Grissom's voice echoed from the kitchen before the man followed with cups in his hands. He imitated her kneeling position as he handed one of the mugs. "We're lucky he's far from self conscious."

Hank made a soft snorting sound as his eyes watched the two humans before him. His belly was full from all the cake they fed him. It tasted like carrots and oats and all he wanted to do was take a nap.

"Hmmm well we can go for a walk later on to burn off those calories, won't we?" Hank's tail waved lazily at her words, but it was obvious that he wanted to do something else before going out.

Grissom pat his friend on his stomach before pushing off back onto his feet and offering Sara his hand. "So I guess in an hour or s-"

_RINNNGGGGGG_

He pulled her up before grabbing the handset.

"Grissom."

"Have you been watching the news?" It was the undersherriff.

"Yes." A beat. "Everyone's trying to figure out who gets Huxley's fortune since his will wasn't written well and the lawyer is under attack from his many girlfriends; all claiming that he had promised them more or something else."

"Stop shitting with me Grissom." The deadly calm in his voice stopped Grissom from replying. "You're lucky that everyone's feeding off Huxley trash. We get that ban because we're worried about your reputation and you go do that on screen? Wh-"

Grissom's browed furrowed. "What are we talking about?" Sara took the mug from him with a worried glance and placed it on the coffee table. _Undersheriff_, he mouthed to her as he turned his attention back to the ranting man.

"You asked for the ban and I got it for you. You were all worried about ruining both your reputation along with the lab's and then you pretty much carry her to the car! Damnit Grissom, I had to pull strings for that -"

"Would you rather if every publication published every detail on my relationship with Sara? And then have both our integrity and work questioned at every trial? All they have for now is speculation and gossip-'information' that judges might dismiss." The silence on the other end signaled that Grissom had won, for now. "Goodbye."

He slammed phone back into its holder before he felt Sara's good arm wrap around his waist from behind. Placing his hand on hers, they stayed silent for a few minutes as his heart pounded away.

"You want to take a walk around the block?" She mumbled into the fabric of his t-shirt.

He squeezed her hand and whistled for Hank's attention. "Come on boy, we're going for a walk."

* * *

He didn't plan to be there for long. Even before going, he had predicted that it would end up like this; with him all disorientated about what step he should take next. Somewhere in his brain, he knew that he was getting nowhere; maybe he should just give up and continue with his original plan. But he knew he needed answers—or he'd end up on the same path he was traveling before his trip last year.

With a deep breath and a longing glance at the building, he bowed his head as his hands moved towards the keys in the ignition. There was no point in staying longer, for today. In addition, he was worried that the neighbors would begin to get suspicious of he stayed any longer as the neighborhood wasn't as busy as the other locations. This was another complication he would have to take into account for any future visits.

His hand was on the key and about to give it a good twist when a dog barked. Following his instincts, he took a quick glance towards the direction of the noise only to be stopped by the image he saw.

They had a dog. They had a big dog. They were walking their dog. They were walking their dog and Grissom was holding her hand.

For a second, he felt vindicated; his theories were correct – they were in a relationship and she was at his house. The reality of the situation quickly caught up as he felt an intangible feeling flood his senses. Disappointment, jealousy, and even hope seemed to mingle in him. He nervously licked his lips as he started his car with a shaky hand. There was no way he would confront her today, not with him around. Without bothering to check his blind spot, he accelerated out of his spot and sped past them; glancing in the rear view mirror only when he was a block away.

* * *

TBC

**AN2:** Sorry about the formatting. Don't know what's up with this computer.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **If I owned CSI:, I would have enough money to buy the CSI pinball machine. Alas, I don't have the money. CSI: belongs to CBS/Alliance Atlantis etc.

**A.N:** I actually had this story planned out from start to finish when I began writing. The story was to follow/ be able to fit into what we saw on screen (aka canon) and then veer off course after One to Go. What I never anticipated was Jorja returning to the show. Now I'm stuck trying to figure out if I want to follow my original plan, or try to accomadate the new news. *facepalm* Oh well. As usual, thanks to my beta GSfanatic for her help!

* * *

"n local news, the miniature case wrapped up earlier today after only two days of trial. The jury came back with the ruling that the Miniature Killer, Natalie Davis, was not criminally responsible of the death of Izzie Delancy, Penny Gardner , Ray Santaro and Barbara Tallman; but guilty and criminally responsible of the kidnapping, stalking, assault, and attempted murder of criminalist Sara Sidle.

Judge Daniel Waters will be announcing the sentence for the Miniature Killer tomorrow at One p.m. We now go to our correspondent, Jonathan Dillon, from outside the courthouse where many reporters are camped out for the best seat in the house when the announcement is made. Now Jonathan, should viewers be surprised that the trial was wrapped up so quickly? It's only been a week and a little more since the preliminary hearing happened and already we have a ruling…"

The screen turned black as he dropped the remote control onto his bed and followed its actions. It had been a two week since he had seen them together and nothing had changed. In fact, it was worse. They both have been in his dreams now, sometimes with their dog, and the same thing would happen every time. The image of Grissom with her, walking their canine companion would slowly morph and turn into him with Debbie, walking their dog; sometimes even with a baby stroller- in short, everything he had imagined his future to be. Then, things got ugly-Grissom or what's-his-face would appear and he would be left behind. Left to watch them as they happily walked off into the literal sunset, and she would glance back multiple times to give him that same pitying looks she gave him so many years ago when he tried so desperately to get her back.

He would wake up afterwards with his emotions gone awry. Sometimes he would feel angry, that she had left him for either man when it was obvious how much he loved her. Other time, the same desperation he felt years ago, triggering him to jump out of bed and prepare to beg her. Beg her to see that he still loved her and that they could work out whatever she didn't like.

His stomach rumbled as he pondered the idea of eating but brushed it off. In the past week, all his trips to their loft had turned up empty handed. He still had no plan but to hope that Grissom wasn't with her when their dog got to walk. Unfortunately, the other man was always there and that was if they even went out for a stroll in the afternoon. He was beginning to think that perhaps they would do the exercise in the mornings after their shift.

The sound of his stomach rumbling again reminded him of the bare necessities that he had left undone. Sitting back up on his bed, he glanced at the newspaper clipping about the start of her trial that he wedged into the edge of his standalone mirror. Reading about whatever information they chose to release was as close as he got to answers for now.

* * *

Her return to work was surprisingly smooth. At first, she had been worried about being rusty on techniques and just in general, using her power of deduction; but the fact that she was able to not only wrap her "simple" breaking and entering case, as well as help crack one of her colleague's case wide open with a single suggestion showed her otherwise. She did so well after a few days that the head of swing decided that she was a better mentor for Ronnie than the original CSI given the task; much to that CSI's dismay.

Sara spent the rest of that day fending off dirty looks and bitchy comments from a few of her colleagues who were obviously less than happy with her stellar performance and work ethic. That said, two weeks after the arrival of said intern-they were all happy that they weren't given the task.

"Ronnie's a good person…"

Grissom raised an eyebrow and glanced at her from his spot at the end of the couch before returning to his crossword.

"…she's just a little…perky."

He gave her the same look again over the top of his paper.

"Ok, she's really perky..." Sara admitted as she wiggled her toes, which were situated on his lap as the nail polish dried. "Kind of annoying actually."

Pulling his crossword away, he blew on her toes for her. "Actually, she sort of reminds me of a certain somebody when I first met her…"

"I wasn't that bad!" She grabbed the crossword out of his hands as an act of revenge and went on to use it as a fan for her nails.

He snatched the paper back from her hand but continued to fan her feet for her. "Oh Dr. Grissom, can you just repeat the bit on how the life cycle of the Western Arizona Dung Beetle helped solve the Reynolds case? Oh Dr. Grissom, how can you be sure that the lab timeline is correct if the bugs are growing in different conditions than the real bugs found on the DB?" He teased in a fake falsetto.

She grinned at his poor attempt of imitating her. "You know I was actually interested in the second question."

He smirked. "How about the first?"

"Like I said last time…I was stalling." The gentle tone of her voice accompanied with her shy smile instantly turned the moment upside down; into something a lot more intimate than before. "That was the first time I really tried to ask you out, for a drink I mean."

He didn't reply but leaned in for a quick peck. "You-"

_RIINNGGGG_

Grissom groaned as he reached for the phone. She stared at her toes as the call went on for a few minutes before he hung up.

"Lab groundskeeper." He explained while putting the handset back. "He wanted to know if I was dropping by tomorrow after shift to see the bees."

"I can walk Hank myself if you want." Grissom hasn't seen the bees for a week due to her trial, and the study needed constant monitoring. She knew that his hesitation was because of their new habit of walking Hank together when he returned from work in the morning. "He isn't the run and drag type anyway."

He let out a deep breath and took a quick look at the dog. "Alright."

* * *

His head was buried in a file when he heard her voice. Sara was called in late on her day off, resulting in her work bleeding over to the night shift, but he never expected her to be here at seven in the morning.

Pulling his head from the papers, he stopped at the doorway and just watched her huddle over evidence with Ronnie and Greg. Sara had once mentioned that she was afraid of doing a bad job of mentoring, but from all he heard and saw in her work with Greg and now Ronnie- he was sure that she was a great teacher. She never seemed to be short with them and was always ready to repeat whatever lesson she had offered.

A high pitched, near squeal came from the far side of the room. "! It's good to see you again!"

"Ronnie, Greg." He nodded at them before focusing on the person he came for. "Sara, a word?"

She raised a sculpted brow as she headed towards him and into the hallway but not before a glare at the two smirking coworkers in the room.

"Did you take your second break yet?"

"No…why?"

"Meet me in ten minutes in the break room." With a wink and a quick smirk, he was gone as fast as he came.

Just as Grissom requested, she left the two other CSIs with their work ten minutes later. She noted a slip of paper in the vent of her locker as her eyes did a scan for Grissom. Opening the metal cabinet to retrieve it, she was surprised by a neatly folded up pile of clothing and a bee keeper's helmet with the note.

'Meet me outside in the cage'.

She couldn't help but smile as she pulled on the gear.

* * *

That eventful day was really the last day they shared a conversation containing more than a "Good Morning" or "Goodbye" accompanied with a quick peck on the lips. He would come home after pulling hours of overtime and hit the bed asleep; while she would choose between walking Hank after breakfast or before work and pass her time with books or journals. When it would become time for her to leave for work, Grissom would sleepily shuffle to the kitchen for his cup of coffee and to send her off. Any overlap at work due to Sara pulling overtime consisted of waves and quick smiles before being dragged back to work.

With no common off days in the next month, they both knew that the only thing keeping them running was their love for the job. Well, at least for Grissom. Ever since she decided to take one for the team, her decision to leave nights in Grissom's place had haunted her. Not because she regretted her decision -Grissom was their leader so his leaving would ruin the shift chemistry that they had worked so hard to hone- but the effects of the move impacted more than she had estimated.

She missed working with her colleagues on the night shift; they were the closest thing to family and friends she had in Vegas. But most of all, she missed working with Grissom. One of the more experienced uniforms once commented that he always asked Brass to request Grissom and Sara's expertise for any case that he thought was going to be impossible to crack. They worked brilliantly together, and their solve rate when working together was near perfect.

But aside from the career aspect, there was still something off. While her body clock had just readjusted to the new hours she was working, the total hours of sleep she got was dropping by weeks. As each week after her rescue creeped by, the nightmares of that night worsened. She never told Grissom of these nightmares, afraid to add more stress to his worries about the trial, Lurie or work and just began concealing any hint of dark rings with make up.

When she had the nightmares and Grissom was with her, she would just cuddle up to him and the warmth of his sleeping body would be enough to calm her. But after she returned to work, she has had to battle these nightmares on her own. In the past week, she found herself watching infomercials late at night to try and distract herself as she struggled to get back to sleep.

The lack of sleep wasn't the only thing that was throwing her off. Her cases were becoming harder and harder to solve; not because they were full of dead ends or lacked evidence, but because she would see herself in the scenario she was processing. Collecting evidence of self defense marks or scraping DNA samples out from underneath nails would bring flashbacks of her fight with Natalie. Witnessing the family and friends react to the terrible news that they had lost a loved one would make her bring up images from her nightmares; where Grissom's smile on the helicopter turns into a look of fear as she realizes that she's watching herself die after getting his hopes up.

She was slowly moving to the point where she could picture herself in anyone and everyone of the scenes she had to process. Whether it was homicides, accidental deaths or even abuse cases, she could see herself in the victim's shoes.

Another trend she grudgingly noticed and desperately tried to ignore was the sense of guilt she felt every time somebody with previous records or an uncharged suspect from other crimes was charged with a crime. She felt like she, as part of the law enforcement field, had let the victims down. Her incompetence at getting the bad guy the first time around had lead to another crime; just like how she couldn't help the team find Natalie after the first time she struck.

But while all this was going on in her head, she put a smile on her face and dealt with the outside world the way that they all expected her to be. She kept all these feelings locked inside her, hoping that nobody saw them and only unwillingly drifting to them whenever she wakes up drenched in sweat.

* * *

The trips to her house were near routine. The trips to their house for the past two weeks weren't. There was a fifty-fifty chance he would see them out in the short period of time he was sitting there, and there was no discernable pattern to when they would appear. So imagine his shock after a week of waiting as he watched her leaving the house accompanied only by her dog.

A chill slithered down his spine as he continued watching her from his car. Should he confront her? This was his chance; he might not get another chance. His eyes nervously flitted around to see if anyone was around, especially if Grissom was exiting the door. After noticing a few others on their way home, he decided against the idea and stayed in his spot. He will talk to her…but not today.

His eyes remained on her, studying her, until she disappeared around the corner. She didn't look as rested as she was last week. The frown lines near her mouth were more evident, making her look older than she was. Lurie let out a deep breath as he fought the urge to run after her, to ask her what was wrong; he didn't want to scare her away by showing up out of nowhere with a million questions. Busying himself with starting up his car, he buckled in and swerved quickly out of his position in her direction.

_One more. One more look before I go. _

* * *

He would kick himself every time he got home after one of those near encounters. What was he afraid of? He had spent all this time and effort tracking her down in hopes of getting some answers; to figure out what exactly was going on with his life. Yet, every time the opportunity arose- he ran with his tail tucked between his legs. His behaviour reminded him of when he first met Debbie; how he would look forward to seeing her everyday yet freeze up and disappear after two minutes of conversation.

Sitting in his armchair, he would brood about those things before going over what he noticed about her that day. Small thing like how she walked or what she was wearing, right down to even things about her dog, like how he always marks the third lamppost down from their building.

As weeks passed, he realized that he couldn't stand just watching anymore. Every time he saw her, she was looking worse than before; to the point he was worrying about her at work and barely able to hold up the relaxed guise he was showing to his colleagues. With frown lines growing deeper by each appearance, she seemed increasingly distracted as she would begin to stray from their usual routine; only to be reminded by her annoyed pooch.

He made up his mind Friday evening. Drawing up his plan, he dropped by the mall to pick up a small present- a belated get well gift of sorts. He would keep this in his car, so that he could give it to her the first chance he saw her; whichever afternoon it was. If she didn't appear for the whole week, he'll wait for the next. He needed answers and nothing was going to stop him this time.

(((**********************************)))

The sound of Hank's nails echoed through the loft as the dog paced impatiently by the door. It was her first day off since moving to swing, and Grissom was fast asleep after coming home exhausted from butting heads with the FBI agent assigned to his case. Grabbing the leash on the doorknob, she stood, slipped runners and clipped Hank in before opening up the door.

Walking Hank was something she really used to enjoy. Even without Grissom, her walking partner always provided something amusing to watch and talk to. Now, she could barely concentrate on Hank and keeping him from running onto roads after cars. It was near impossible to not let the haunting images from her nightmares or even just her imagination into her head. Anytime she wasn't thinking about something, they would creep in and fill her empty thoughts.

She sighed as she realized that she was thinking about those thoughts again as she stood in the elevator with her boxer. Stepping out into the late afternoon sunlight, she squinted at the sun and followed where Hank led her. As she lagged behind, she began realizing how she hadn't followed up on her promises.

When she was underneath that car, there were moments when she thought that she was doomed for sure. Moments like when that coyote showed particular interest in her arm, or when the rain started and she noticed that water was pooling under her. At that time, she would regret not doing a few things in her life; things like finding her mom to talk about that eventful day, or going to the Galapagos with Grissom. She swore that if she got out from underneath the piece of scrap metal, she would do those things.

A tug on the leash and a deep woof urged her to walk faster as Hank continued guiding her around the neighborhood. She'll get around to those things eventually, but for now, all her attention was on Hank.

* * *

He straightened his tie and stared at the image looking back at him in the rearview mirror. She had just left her house and he wasn't going to wait another day. Once her dog hits the third lamp post, it'll stay there for roughly a minute or two. That'll at least stop her so he could approach her.

Looking away from his reflection, he watched her over walk her dog as it stopped at his lamp post. Quickly checking his blind spot, he hurried off the car but closed the door softly. He squeezed the box in his hand tightly as he headed towards her figure.

* * *

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

**AN:** Technically it's Tuesday and I'm a day late, but I got a new tablet laptop and I've been obssessed with it so..sorry? :) Anyway, as usual, review cause it helps me improve (and tells me people are reading...if anyone's actually out there). And as usual, thank you to **GSFanatic **for her lovely beta work.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own CSI! Never have, (probably) never will.

* * *

Her back was to him as he inched closer and closer. There were a few more feet before he was going to be within her hearing range. He took deep yet quiet breaths as the distance became shorter and shorter. Pulling his fist up to his mouth in nervousness, he inhaled to clear his throat but was cut off by a soft growl.

The sound stopped him in his tracks. Her dog had turned around from its precious pole, but she continued staring into the space where he used to be. The dog's growl got louder, even though he didn't move from his position five feet away from her. Feeling a chill run up his spine, he began second guessing his plan. Perhaps having the dog there wasn't the best idea.

The growl turned into a snarl as the dog bared his teeth. Lurie suffocated a nervous chuckle as tucked the box he was holding into his pocket and backed away slowly. He was a few steps away when the dog thought he wasn't going quickly enough and unleashed a thundering bark.

He didn't know why, but he spun around and ran as if the dog was a leopard. Sprinting towards his car, he didn't bother looking back.

* * *

_RUFF._

His bark tore her from her thoughts. She scanned her area frantically as she realized her dog had moved from the spot he used to be.

_GRRRRUFF_

She kneeled beside him, running her hand down his back in an attempt to calm him. "Hank, what's wrong?" He rarely barked while out on walks and a quick one over of Hank showed nothing out of place.

She stood up and looked in the direction that her dog was still staring at. A man was jogging rather quickly away from her. Hank never barked at joggers, even the quick ones, prompting her to stare at the figure for longer. He was rather lanky, middle age judging by the grey hair…and jogging in business wear?

The combination of those characteristics set off an alarm in her head. It couldn't be him. He wouldn't know where Grissom lived, and that she would be here. She shook her head an attempt to dislodge those thoughts.

"Come on Hank." He didn't budge, but continued sniffing a spot on the grass he had become interested in. "Come on…what are you sniffing now?" He snuffled as he moved away from the spot to reveal something glittering in the grass. She picked it up and dangled it in the sunlight for a good look. It was a bracelet; obviously new with brand tags still attached. A quick look at the surrounding ground uncovered the top and bottom portions of a box with the same brand name.

The loud sound of tires squealing yanked her attention towards the direction that the mysterious jogger went into. A car had pulled out of its spot into a U-turn at a high speed and was now speeding down the road. As she looked on, she got an uneasy feeling. For some reason, she felt that the driver was staring back at her through the rearview mirror.

* * *

He gripped his steering wheel as he swore she was looking at him. It made his heart rate accelerate again after it slowed down as he held his breath watching her examine the bracelet. He must have dropped it as he ran. It was hard to tell if she liked it, but seeing the jewelry in her hands still felt rewarding to him. At the very least, he had introduced himself in a way.

As he sped away, he took a few more glances in the mirror. She still stood in the same spot but she was putting the bracelet back in its box. Lurie couldn't help but smile at her actions as he turned out of their street. Nobody would take jewelry they didn't like, right?

* * *

It would be impossible to find whoever dropped this. There were too many residents in each complex and too many of those. Weighing her choices, she tucked the bracelet back in the box as Hank paced impatiently around her.

"Ok, home time." She smiled at him, but the dog couldn't tell it didn't reach her eyes.

He wagged his tail at her announcement and began pulling her towards their destination. But before they went on their way, she kneeled down and placed the box gently back in the grass. She just lacked the willpower to help it reunite with its rightful owner.

* * *

Grissom was gone when she re-entered her house.

"Called in early. See you. Gil" was scribbled on a scrap and left on the kitchen table. She quickly re-read the messaged before crunching it up and tossing it into the recycling bin.

A sense of unease had fallen over as she returned to their loft. Hank's behavior didn't make sense, but she also didn't know how to approach Gil about it. Sitting down on her couch, she mindlessly petted Hank and kept her gaze on the TV. Although she had ruled out Lurie, her instinct told her that Grissom wouldn't; and would examine every bit of information she gave him.

Her fingers robotically punched at the remote in her hand, and continued at it until a loud ring came from her cell.

She hit the call button."Sidle."

"Sara, it's James. I need you to come in ASAP. Josh just had to start puking out his guts right before a big scene got called in. Food poisoning or something."

"Alright, I'll be there in twenty." She scribbled down the address her supervisor read off. Ronnie was out of town for her best friend's wedding so it looked like a long day. She hung up and patted Hank on his sides to wake him up. "Come on, looks like we'll have to drop you off at Katie's today."

* * *

Her feet made soft thuds against the floor of the lab. His office was on her way to the lockers anyway. All she needed to do was to update him about Hank at the sitter, and maybe mention his odd behavior; depending on how busy he was.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked quickly before walking in quickly.

" Hey,Gil-"

The agent was there.

Hank would have to wait.

* * *

The conversation never happened. That day ended when Ecklie kicked both of them out of the lab for maxing on overtime for the last two weeks. No conversation cut through the thick silence as they drove home; feeling that they had failed the little boy taken by Terry Wicker. Like mice, the whole team was skillfully led by this pied piper into a frustrating dead end.

When her body hit the mattress, her last thought was that she would talk to him after their nap. What she didn't expect was to be woken up by his cell phone half way through.

"Grissom" He answered sleepily "…Really?"

The tone of his voice told her that whoever it was, they've got Grissom's attention. She leaned back further into his warmth as she continued to listen in.

"Can Sara accompany me? .... Yeah yeah, I remember. Just email me the boarding pass." He hung up shortly after and dropped his cell phone back on his nightstand. They silently laid there for a minute with his breath warmed the crook of her neck. "FBI director wants me in New York working with Malone again."

"And they don't want me." She flipped over to face him.

He looked at her under drooped lids as she noted the rings underneath his eyes. The case had taken its toll on him, worrying her as he was about to re-emerge himself right back into it; a few time zones a way too. "More like Ecklie's being a prick about shuffling staff to cover you if you came." Grissom leaned in and kissed her gently. "I'll be back before you know it."

* * *

He pointed at the magazine in his hand. "Excuse me, what type of dog is this?"

"A boxer sir."

"My friend has one of these fellas. What type of rawhide would distract him for the longest?"

The drive back home was quick as his thoughts were concentrated on one topic. The dog. It obviously didn't like him. As he pulled his car into the driveway, he realized that-like its owner- it may need to be wooed. He ended up at the first pet store he found.

"Well sir, we would recommend…"

Lurie tuned out as the clerk led him down the dog chews isle chattering away about the different types of rawhide. He was too busy planning his next move.

* * *

He came back two days after, even more exhausted than before, but at least he was happy. They had nabbed the maniac. Sara was happy for him, even though a small part of her wished that she could have been there with him; working the case like in the old days.

The old days. At this minute, anything before her nightmares seemed like better times; even the days when she swore Grissom was pairing her up with anyone but him on cases, or that time when his ex-mentor paid a "visit".

As she sat now, at her desk with the back of her pen tapping a steady rhythm, she couldn't help but question her plans. The last day or two had been rough at the very least. Seeing herself, and her mother, in that domestic violence case, and then failing Marlon had left her on the verge of something bad. She didn't know what to define it as, but she could sense that something was about to crack. She had to go. She didn't want him to be on the receiving end of anything when she snapped. He had once said that he didn't believe in a violence gene. Sara didn't want to test his theory.

Scribbling those thoughts down, she lost the fight against her tears as her pen finished the last letter. A drop ran down her cheek and barely missed the page as she proofread. He didn't need somebody so broken, and full of problems. He deserved better.

Brushing her tears away, she cleared her throat and glanced at herself in the reflection on the glass. It was time.

* * *

Arriving at the airport, the cabbie gave her a second glance as she paid him. It was rare that he would see anyone of her age with so little luggage; carrying only a stuffed camping backpack, and purse. After checking one last time to see if she had all her documents, she stared at the big screen that listed all departures and arrivals.

Flights from all over the world on different airlines, all carrying visitors or residents to and from Vegas for different reasons. She could remember the day when she stood on the other side; in San Francisco, waiting to board a plane to see a man who had impacted her life so deeply. She was almost giddy in anticipation.

Finding a flight to her old home town, she headed towards the counter to purchase the ticket. She had written that she needed to bury her old problems, to face old ghosts, in her letter. There were questions that only her biological mother could answer.

The lady behind the counter flashed her pearly whites at her. "Hi, can I help you?"

"Can I get ticket on the next flight out to San Francisco?"

By the time he gets the letter, she'll be long gone.

* * *

He reread her words as he felt his heart seize up painfully. There was no way to explain what he was feeling at that moment. Anger, hurt, sadness came to his mind, but those feelings were all covered by a layer of shock.

She had left him. After all he did for her, for them, she ran off leaving only a piece of paper in her place. He resisted an urge to rip it, knowing he would regret it later. She knew that it took him a lot to even begin the relationship with her. Yet, she scuttled ship and left only a life raft of consoling words for him to face the seas with.

Grissom swallowed back tears as he reread the letter again; looking for more to slag her on, but came up empty. For half way through the process, he felt the tears he resisted flowing down his face. How had he missed all this? Why didn't she tell him? Was he a bad fiancé for not seeing this on his own?

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_

The sound on his door reminded him of where he was amidst all this. He ignored it but made sure that his blinds were as closed as they could get. He needed his privacy to cope with what just happened. Whoever it was knocked again but received no reply from him as he went back to her. His anger against her had subsided, leaving him missing her even more. Swallowing again in an attempt stop the tears, he moved to pick up his phone before his fingers went on autopilot for her number. He needed to hear her voice; just to know she's physically okay and safe.

"You've reached Sara Sidle. I'm sorry that I can't answer your call at the moment..."

Her voice triggered unexpected tears as it was a reminder of what he was now missing from his life; along with all her other quirks and characteristics.

"S-Sara. It's Gil..." He stopped to steady his voice, "J-just call me back, please." Another breath. "I just want to know that you're safe. Sara..." "I ...I...miss you with every beat of my heart...too." He knew the last part was weak but that was all he could manage before he felt his control slip. Quickly saying his goodbye, he hung up the phone with shaky hands.

The knocking on his door became frantic. Unable to ignore it, he collected himself before wrenching it open.

"Oh my God, thank God you're here."

It was Ronnie.

"I just got a call from PD for the domestic case Sara and I were working and they said that the beaten wife was found in her neighbour's backyard bleeding and she might not survive." She took a big breath "I tried calling Sara to ask for help to nail that son of a bitch husband, but she left her phone in her locker; I mean I heard it ringing and then I opened up my locker to find this!" She shoved her vest into his face.

He didn't need to look at the size, but he knew it was Sara's. It had, as she once told him about Greg's comment, the Sidle scent. Grissom took it from her and looked at it as the trainee continued.

"She didn't look too happy by the end of yesterday's shift and I'm really worried about her after seeing this. I mean 'Good Luck'? Did she leave? Is she alright? , you're her……boyfriend, you have to know."

She stopped as she noticed how Grissom was no longer staring at her but the vest in his hand.

"?"

He looked up from the vest. "This is your case from now on Ronnie. I can't help you with it." With that, he retreated back into his cave.

When he reappeared later, Ronnie was gone, but he could still hear her words in his head.

"_, you're her……boyfriend, you have to know"_

No. No he didn't know.

With a blank stare at whoever looked or said anything to him, his body went on autopilot for the flight path to the sitter's house before their house. Or, would that be his house? He didn't know.

* * *

There was something wrong.

Grissom never walked their dog at this time of the day, but it was what has happened for the second straight day. It always has been either Sara or both of them with the dog, never him alone at this time. Lurie gripped his steering wheel as the man and his companion continued on their way.

Since the day he dropped by the pet shop, she had been missing in action; replaced by either Grissom or a no show. In the mean time, his dreams have exploded into full out soap operas; full of drama and emotions gone rampant all about one topic- her. In a way, they kept him sane. He knew every day that he would see her there, but at the same time, these dreams made him hungrier for the real deal.

He gripped the wheel harder as he thought about how long it has been since he first laid eyes on her at Desert Palms. All that time she was right there but unattainable; like how she remained, but with even more obstacles to jump through.

There was no way that he would give up after all this. He was sure that she didn't cross paths with him by chance. All those questions, some that he had already forgotten, needed answers. Watching her for the past few weeks had stirred up something inside him. A something that felt oddly familiar. A something that fueled him to keep coming back.

* * *

"Hello?"

He sounded tired, but his voice still brought tears to her eyes. "G-Gil?"

Silence on the other end.

"Gil?" A beat "Please don't hang up."

"I would never do that." His voice was strained, as if he was trying to hold back. "W-where are you, Sara?"

"San Francisco." She let out a breath of relief. Her cell phone provider allowed users to check messages from other phones, and she did just that a few hours ago. His message sounded sincere but she wasn't sure if he still felt that way. "I'm going to see my mom."

"A-are you coming home after that?" He sounded hopeful and it killed her.

"No." She felt the tears start flowing again. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Gil. I …I just can't come back, not for now at least."

Silence on both ends.

"You deserve somebody better." Her voice was a near whisper, but he heard it still.

"Sara, you are the best." His rebuttal was soft, but sure. "I-I just wish you would tell me what's wrong."

"I wish I could…but I can't…not until I figure it out." She knew her voice was wavering, but she couldn't help it. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

It broke his heart to hear her so hurt, and there was nothing he could do to help her. "Let me help you."

"No. I need to do this on my own. These are m-my problems. You already dealt with too many of my problems when I was in Vegas."

Silence again.

"So is this the end? For us?" He let go of the tears that he had held back.

"I don't know, Gil." She whispered back.

"I don't want it to be."

"What do you want it to be?"

"I want us to be happy." He wiped a few tears away. "I w-want you to be happy."

She choked up on her end. The man always knew how to pull on her heartstrings, intentionally or not, and at the moment he was doing just that. Any more of this would just lead to her caving into going back to Vegas and trying to ignore her problem. "I-I have to go."

"Sara… I still want to be with you"

"I love you, Gil." She chewed on her lip as she steadied her voice. "I'll talk to you later. B-bye."

* * *

"So she didn't leave contact information?"

_Snap._

"No, and wouldn't tell me anything. All he did was take her vest from me and zombie walk back into his office."

_Snap._

"He would do that. They're kind of ultra private about their personal life; as if you haven't realized that by now. I mean, why else do you think them lab rats are so happy to get any bit of gossip about what's up between them."

Ronnie adjusted her camera settings to zoom into a wound on the unconscious patient's arm. "But you think he would tell me how I could contact Sara at least. I mean, I need…mentoring!"

"I thought I was doing that." Josh flashed a grin at her before checking the display screen of his camera.

Another snap. "Well yes, but I worked that case with her and I heard that she's real good at cracking domestic abuse cases so, you know, she might have been helpful if the husband didn't own up."

He hung the camera around his neck by its strap. "Well, all I know is this: I'm mentoring you now and Sara's left the lab; hell, rumor mill says she's left town. Just ask me if you have any questions now. Oka-"

_SLAP_

The sound caused both criminalists to spin on their heals.

"I-I'm sorry. How clumsy of me." The man picked up his files quickly; almost as if he was nervous about something. "I'm Doctor Lurie, skin graft specialist who operated on here." He shook hands with the criminalists. Ronnie noted his shaky hand shake but quickly forgot about it as he continued. "I-I'm in a hurry but I thought I would drop this off. I noticed something that wasn't flesh on his burnt wounds so I scraped it off for you guys." He dropped the jar into Ronnie's hand. "Now if you may excuse me, I have some business to attend to."

* * *

TBC

PS Please tell me if there are half finished sentences and such. It means didn't import the file correctly.


	13. Chapter 13

**A.N: I need to make an apology to anyone who looked forward to getting this chapter and has been waitng so long. Real life has been hectic and I just have not, and cannot, find the time to continue this fic for now. An estimate for when this fic will be updated again after this is Christmas. I'm really sorry guys. **

**A.N #2** : Thanks to GSFanatic my awesome beta, and your awesome reviews, for keeping me going.

**Disclaimer**: don't own a thing.

* * *

"Bertha! Clear up my afternoon!"

The nurse looked up in time to watch a pile a file fall on the ledge, followed by a few more on top of them.

"Vincent, you're ful-"

"No, just do it." His voice was hard as he hurriedly thumbed through his files before tossing them on the ledge. "J-just do it, please."

She got up and lunged forward, grabbing onto his elbow as he turned to go. "Vincent, what's wrong?" It was unlike him to be so rattled and so obvious about it. His hair was a mess, as if he'd been running his hands through it too many times; and his knuckles were raw as if he had punched something. "Is it something in your family?"

He swung his arm to free himself. "I just have to go. Have a nice day."

Bertha watched him as he hurried away, plowing through the crowd as he went. Some times, she was worried about that guy.

((***********************************************))

"Las Vegas Crime Lab"

"H-hi, can you patch me through to Sidle?"

"I'm sorry, but I have nobody on staff with that name."

"Are you sure? I know she's on Nights regularly and maybe she's not on your shift directory ."

"Sir, all I can say is that we no longer have anyone on staff with that name."

The line went dead.

Judy shook her head as she went back to her filing. The one day she subs for Mary Anne and she gets the creepy crime fans.

* * *

His fist made contact before the brain registered the idea. It probably wasn't a good idea to use an already raw pair of knuckles on another target. But the action was instinctive; a natural reaction out of frustration. Gritting his teeth, he cradled his bloody hand as he rode out of the after shocks.

Lurie laughed bitterly as he felt his anger bubble up again. Like the classic donkey and carrot cartoon, he was chasing something seemingly unattainable. She was gone, again. His fear had crippled him, again. Now he has to hunt her down, again. Every damn thing felt like déjà vu. It was as if something pulled her away from his flailing arms every time he was within range t-

"Hey buddy, you okay?"

Lurie looked up from his injuries at the booming voice.

"You need me to call the paramedics?"

He was at a strip mall phone booth. Right. And now a humungous security guard thinks he's a bloody lunatic. Great. "I'm fine." The half assed smile on his face probably wasn't too convincing. "Just slipped and hit my hand here on the walls." He patted the walls with his good hands as he exited. "I'll just ask the convenience store for some bandages…it's all minor cuts anyway. Have a good evening."

The teenager at the store didn't bother with questions as she handed Lurie the First Aid kit. She barely blinked when she rang up his six pack.

* * *

The point was that he should be distracted. But obviously, the topic he was running from was something that even his drunken counterpart wanted to dabble into. He hiccupped as he reordered the articles at the end of his bed. Pulling them from the various places he had tucked the scraps of newspaper under, they were now being assembled into chronological timeline on his bed.

Lurie sat back to admire his work after stumbling around for a few minutes. A lot of work had gone into collecting these clippings. They ranged from the day after she was kidnapped to the most recent articles about Natalie Davis. The result, for now, lay in front of his eyes. He had even subscribed to a Google alert under her name, Grissom's name, and anything about Natalie Davis.

"Not gonna give up." The ragged promise broke the silence that had settled. He took another swig as he began reading the articles again. There must be something in them that he had missed the first time around; a clue that would lead him to her.

He felt his concentration slipping as his quest continued, but he continued to push. The words were melting into blurry lines when he realized that he had finished off another bottle of cheap whiskey. Groaning, he checked his watch to find it was only early evening, but his body told him to go to bed.

Shuffling until his back hit the back board, he made a sloppy kick at his bedspread; bunching the material up and sending papers flying. _I'll find them tomorrow._

Lurie fell into a liquor induced nap not long after that thought. What he didn't notice was that a few clippings had slipped under his heavy cabinet. In particular, one article which began with "Sara Sidle joined the LVPD Crime Lab in late 2000 arriving from the San Francisco Police forensics team…"

* * *

There was no need for an alarm that morning. He woke up long before the sun rose but remained in his spot. The only motion executed was a log roll so that he wasn't stuck with staring at himself. So he laid there, eyes closed, as he tried to ride out his headache; perhaps in time for work- if he felt like going in.

People will obviously be talking, asking questions; but he already had that covered. Just make up some bullshit about his nephew being in a big accident in northern Canada; someplace with limited internet connection so nobody can double check. Hell, he could probably make up a town and nobody would bother to verify his words.

That's the good thing about being in his line of work. People inherently trust you, whether they realize it or not. Although his track record had a minor blemish or two, people still believed stories with a sheep like quality these days. Well, either that, or he was a pretty decent actor.

Lurie smirked at the thought before a dull throb spoiled the moment. It reminded him again of why he was stuck in bed at five in the morning. Rolling onto his back, he heard a crunch as his memory finally pieced together what the noise was.

"Crap!" He bolted up in his position, only to be taken down again by a sharp pain from his head. Pushing himself up, slowly this time, he began grabbing at the papers in his moment of clarity. Although he could probably print up the articles again, it meant he had to take time to find them again.

After finding all the pieces he could find, he ventured into the kitchen in search for a cup of water. There was no use in trying to get back to bed. His body might like the idea, but his brain was on another path. Downing the universal solvent, he pulled open the door of the fridge to satisfy his growling stomach.

There was some old take out, a few bottles of juice, and even some cheese. Lurie moved on to the crisper. "Oh the irony…" he muttered .Carrots. His intention was to take a good look at them, to make sure they were still fresh, but the symbolism was too obvious to ignore. "Maybe I should eat you guys…"

A quick glance into his crisper reaffirmed that idea. His abrupt departure from work yesterday had caused him to forget to pick up groceries for the week. While on the task of cleaning the veggies, his mind drifted off to his thoughts the night before.

It felt like that there was something pulling her out of reach every time he got closer. She moved rooms when he felt prepared enough to see her at Desert Palms. Got an early discharge just after he discovered her new location. Moved in with her boyfriend after he gets her address. Now, left Vegas after his failed first contact attempt.

A throb reminded him once again of his situation. Turning off the tap, he wandered over to his couch and turned on the TV. His headache wasn't as bad as last time, due to the fact he ingested less alcohol, but the dull pain and slower processing time was still in effect. The sound of the TV acted as background music as he continued his thoughts from where he left off.

Where did he go wrong? That was the only question he could ask. Why could he get so close yet end up empty handed? Was it only fate that kept them apart? After all, who knew that he was interested in her, or even, who would worry about him contacting her? How would that person even know about his pl-

"Are you balding?" A voice boomed from his television. Obviously, somebody forgot to turn down the volume on the mike when filming the infomercial. "Well we have the perfect solution for you! Introducing Rogaine XF2000, the most effective drug for curing male baldness! Men's Digest called it…"

Lurie flipped the channel and took another bite of his carrot. It reminded him too much of not only his age, but when he was inspected by the ki- . His brain hit the emergency brake.

The kid from the crime lab. The man who looked familiar in the elevator was the kid who did those UV tests. The guy who was sitting with her when he first walked into her room probably works at the lab too; seeing she didn't even list family members on her forms for emergency contact. She went on walks with her dog who hated him. **Their **dog who hated him.

He dropped his carrot. The connections were there.

"Grissom." His voice was low, almost a shaky whisper as it all fell in place. Was he the man on the donkey?

* * *

There were moments where it seemed that Hodges was begging to be sucker punched. The moment they shared today should have fallen into that category. Yet, when the other man suggested that he should just let her go, he just stared back; as if in agreement with him.

Those words, and his reaction, looped in his mind as he drove. It looped in his mind as he prepared dinner for himself and Hank. The memory remained even after his attempts to wash them away in the shower.

As he laid in bed, with Hank in her spot, his thoughts drifted off to where she was, what she was doing and if she was doing well. Would she call him if she was in trouble? Would he call her if something happened? He flashed back to the moment when Ronnie rambled away at his office door; about hearing Sara's cell phone in her locker.

He realized at that moment that he had no means of contacting her. The team's personal cell phones doubled for work cells since the lab reimbursed them for any calls to work related numbers. Reaching over to his nightstand, he grabbed his cell phone and began searching for the call history. His plan included caller ID, so hopefully, Sara used a traceable phone when calling him.

"Oh thank God" He muttered before yanking his drawer open to find pen and paper. His relief faded as he realized that the number could be just a payphone at a truck stop somewhere. Quickly punching the call button, he prayed that the number led to at least a hotel or something.

A woman's voice came on. "Hello, Metro Hotel San Francisco, how may I help you?"

"I'd like to leave a message for a guest please"

"What room number sir?"

"Uhhh…" Shit. "I can't remember off the top of my head, but, her last name is Sidle. First name starts with an S."

Typing sounds from the other end. He could hear his own heartbeat as the sounds continued.

"OK sir, you will be redirected in a second. You may leave the message after the beep."

True to her word, the beep came.

"Sara. It's Gil. I-I just wanted to make sure you're ok, and to say that…if you ever need anything, you can call home. I mean, call me. A-and, I just wanted to know if you had a number that I could reach you at…in case of emergencies, I mean." The last was rushed, as if he was embarrassed by his request. "I…uh...hope to hear from you soon."

He woke up before the next shift to find an email in his inbox.

_Gil,_

_I've cancelled my Vegas number, and plan to get a new number soon. I will let you know when it happens. For now, please leave any emergency messages at the hotel or through email._

_Thank you, and take care. _

He noted her choice of words and took comfort in the little information they provided. She needed her space, and he was willing to provide it. All he knew was that he's not ready to say goodbye.

* * *

He managed to get to work that day. They believed the reasons he gave them and life went on; or so it appeared. After doing his morning rounds with thoughts about them in the back of his mind, he sat down at his desk and observed the damage. In his shock and anger after hearing the CSIs words, he had blown through his office like a hurricane; introducing his knuckles to the stacked in-out trays along the way, leaving papers all over his desk.

He let out a breath as he began cleaning up with his mind far from the task. It began where he left off earlier that morning, before his stomach reminded him carrots weren't good enough for breakfast; causing him to search for more. It began on the topic of Grissom. All the clues pointed that Grissom had some part in her disappearances. But he couldn't figure out why. Was Grissom afraid that he would see something he liked? That the other man would...lose her to him?

Lurie used the desk to align the papers in his hands. It hit him then that maybe the why isn't important. She's in another city now, so Grissom was out of the equation Now, all he needed to do is find where she left Vegas for. As he glanced down at the patient papers he just put away, he got his answer

* * *

"Las Vegas Crime Lab."

"Hi, I am with Desert Palm Hospital and we believe that we might have recovered something of interest for the John Doe who was badly burnt. May I be patched through to the lead investigator?"

"Please hold."

* * *

"Hi may I speak to Bertha?"

"You're talking to her. You must be Ronnie, your supervisor told me you'd drop by sometime today." The lady stuck her hand out.

"Nice to meet you." Ronnie shook her hand without hesitation. "Where's the evidence?"

"Actually, the attending physician just told me to call in something that he thinks may be evidence. I'll let him know that you're here."

The old lady disappeared before reappearing a minute later with a familiar man in tow.

He stuck his hand out. "I believe we've met before, I'm ."

"Yes we have, nice to see you again." His grip was firm this time.

"Why don't we head to my office to discuss this?" Without waiting for her response, he spun on his heels and began walking the other way; leaving her to play catch up.

They walked in silence for the first minute or so, with Ronnie playing the silent witness to the day to day operation of the big hospital. It wasn't half as exciting or busy as the media made fictional hospitals to be. Her curiosity got the better of her. "Is it usually this dead?"

He glanced at her. "Around this time of the day, yes."

They continued on with an awkward silence between them. Ronnie hated these silences, but she let it be as they came to an elevator. He pressed the up button. "So, have you been working at the lab for long?"

"No, I actually just joined this year. I'm kind of an intern but not really since we're a little shorthanded at the moment." She smiled, happy that he broke the awkwardness.

He smiled back as they boarded the elevator. "I have an old classmate who works in the lab. Not sure if you know her though..."

"What's her name?" She watched as he punched in his floor. "I think I've worked on every shift because, you know, interns get moved around a lot."

He chuckled with her. "Her name is Sara. Sara Sidle. Do you know her?"

"Sara? Of course, she mentored me!"

Lurie watched her face fall after those words came out. "Is something wrong?" He asked gently.

"Huh? Oh, no." She laughed softly. "It's just, she just took off like a week ago, and nobody really knows what happened to her. I just…miss you her a little. She was a good mentor." The elevator came to a stop and they stepped off. "Wait, you didn't know she left?"

The doctor seemed surprised by her question. "Um...no. She's an old classmate that I met up with a few years back at a reunion. Just thought that I would see how she's doing." Ronnie nodded as he let out a chuckle that sounded oddly nervous. "Do you, uh, know why she left? Or where she headed off to?"

The criminalist shrugged. "She was pretty unhappy with …just how things were. Lab rumor mill says she went off to San Francisco."

"Oh." He appeared to be oddly nervous, again, as he tried to open his door. "I guess… I guess I'll have to contact her another time." The door finally creaked open on his second attempt.

His office was clean and not what Ronnie expected from a man of his age. Her eyes were doing a quick scan of the items of his desk when he cleared his throat; motioning for her to take a seat.

"I forgot to tell you this a few days ago, but we had to operate on this area that looked a little suspicious." He showed her a picture of burnt flesh. "It's covered up to prevent infections on John Doe at the moment, but when we operated we took this. My team thinks it looks like he's been…branded, if that is the correct word."

The criminalist squinted at the picture before pulling an evidence bag out of her purse. "Looks like that to me. Wow, have you ever seen something like that before?" She asked incredulously.

"A lot of weird things happen in Vegas." His didn't sound surprised.

"Yeah, really…"She bagged the picture and the awkward silence returned. "Uh, thanks for calling it in."

"No problem." The doctor stood up, and Ronnie mirrored his movements. He opened his office door. "I hope it's helpful, Ms…"

"Lake. Ronnie Lake. I should probably give you my card in case you have more things to call in." Ronnie dug through her purse. "I actually had these printed out on my own because I'm technically still an intern, but I figured you know- victims would probably like a number to contact." She smiled up at the tall figure.

"Thank you," He smiled back and continued doing so as she walked away.

* * *

**This fic is now on hiatus. **


End file.
